An IceCreamCapade
by sagdragon3002
Summary: The Defenders fight day in and day out to save the world. But the important thing...is what they do in their free time... Craziness, fighting, and ice cream ensues.
1. Oven Cleaning, Ice Cream, and Baaad Plan

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat does not belong to me. It belongs to Midway and the brilliant people who came up with it. I don't own the characters, for if I did...well, then the events in my stories would occur by some mystical happening. All assorted ice cream flavors are not mine, they belong to either Baskin Robbins or Ben & Jerry's.

This story is just... random stuff that I thought up and couldn't get out of my head until I wrote it down. I don't mean for there to be any plot, so don't write to me asking for one. If a plot does come around... then give me three cheers and don't ask how my brain managed to scrape it up. OOC-ness willbe here, undoubtedly; unfortunately my humor tends to lean that way, and I do wish I could write intelligent, realistic humor, but that probably won't happen.

I'm going to go ahead and assume everyone knows what people look like that way I can dive right into the story. If you don't, go to a MK website and look.

Chapter Note: This might seem a little strange coming from the character, but I got the inspiration from the MK: Defenders of the Realm cartoon episode _Swords of Ilkan_. If you haven't seen it, it starts out with the same character having difficulties with the fact that she doesn't get a chance to be simply feminine. That's all you need to know from the episode. If you are in desperate need for a solution to cleaning ovens quickly, DO NOT take my method. It is purely fictional; I have more faith in the fact that it would _never_ work than in the fantasy that it _might_.

* * *

**_Oven Cleaning, Ice Cream, and Baaad Plans  
_**

Stryker paused outside the kitchen as he heard a snarl, a loud bang, and then another (more vehement) snarl. He debated with himself whether he wanted to know what was happening behind the door, then treaded cautiously into the room.

The kitchen appeared fine. It seemed exactly like it was two hours ago when he finished cleaning up the mess Nightwolf made attempting to cook supper (Stryker hoped the Indian got the message when he told the man _never_ to touch a utensil in the kitchen again). The only difference was the oven door gaped open and Sonya sat beside it, scowling and dirty. Scrub brushes lay scattered on the floor around her, very well used. The handle of one was broken.

Stryker pondered whether to chance a comment or get out with his hide in one piece.

He did always appreciate living on the edge.

"Did World War III happen here? And did the scrub brush army lose?"

Sonya Blade lifted her scowl to him, and Stryker winced inwardly. He _knew_ he should have escaped. "Leave, Stryker. I'm not in the mood for your attitude."

He raised a brow. "_My_ attitude? What about yours? Here I am standing concerned, and not just for my kitchen, and you tell me to get out?" When she lowered her gaze to the oven and kicked the apparatus, Stryker knelt to his knees and gave her an honestly concerned look. "Sonya, c'mon, what's wrong?"

"You left the oven dirty," she finally muttered. When Stryker was about to reply (he had not wanted to waste time cleaning it) she went on. "I thought I could clean it, y'know, like women do when they don't have anything better to do. They clean. So, I tried."

Stryker bent his head a little to look inside the oven. Yes, she had tried. There was little sign of success. "How about you go clean yourself up and have a pint of ice cream, eh?"

Sonya nodded and left, having no energy left in her to argue. She took a hasty shower to clean the grime and changed clothes. When she returned to the kitchen to have that pint of _World Class Chocolate_ ice cream (She didn't care what Jax said, Baskin Robbins came first, then Ben & Jerry's), she found Stryker sitting at the counter eating from a carton of _New York French Vanilla_ contentedly. The oven still sat open, but there was a sparkle in those black walls.

A sparkle that Sonya recognized as. . .

"You cleaned it?" Stryker heard Sonya murmur. He was about to tell her that no thanks was necessary when she smacked him upside his head.

"Hey!" he shouted, glaring at her. "What the hell was that for!"

"You cleaned it!"

"I know I did!"

She smacked him on the arm. "I didn't want _you_ to clean it! _I_ wanted to clean it!"

Stryker opened and closed his mouth, trying to understand the absurdity that was the woman's mind, then replied hotly, "I thought you wouldn't mind the help!"

"I didn't _want_ help!" Sonya smacked him on the leg before slumping into a chair across from Stryker, looking downcast. "I wanted to be a woman."

Wondering if she was done with her hitting fetish, Stryker rose from his chair, went to the freezer, and returned with two ice cream pints. He set one pint and a spoon in front of her like a peace offering, then opened his second pint of _NY French Vanilla_.

Sonya picked the spoon up and looked at the carton, wondering what crap he got her.

The label read _World Class Chocolate_.

"How did you know-"

"Jax likes _Cherry Garcia_, though I despise Ben & Jerry's altogether; Nightwolf has this strange affection for _Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough_; Liu loves _Pistachio Almond_; Kitana hogs the _Rocky Road_; and I don't care what Sub-Zero says, he's partial to the _Very Berry Strawberry_."

Sonya stared. Stryker took a bite of his ice cream, then answered her question. "I'm pretty much the chef around here, Sonya. I'd surrender myself to Shao Kahn's torture before I let Liu or Nightwolf in this kitchen to cook. You can only cook a pie, a good pie though it is. Kitana and Sub-Zero are usually too busy around dinner time to _eat,_ much less cook, and Jax always wins at rock, paper, scissors."

The woman thought back to all the desserts they had eaten in the past years. Everyone was always happy when they had ice cream pies, but they never agreed on one flavor for the desert. There was always something wrong with one flavor or the other. Sonya had never given a thought as to why no one complained. "You're sweet. I guess."

Stryker shrugged. He watched as her spirits lifted a little higher, then returned to his pint. They ate their ice creams for a minute. Then they returned to the prior argument.

"You should've left the oven for me to clean," Sonya grumbled.

"Oh, for god's sakes, leave it alone, Sonya."

She sighed. "I thought it'd be easy. Something to prove I'm still a woman. All of this Mortal Kombat turmoil forces me to be a warrior, not the person I want to be. Not a woman."

Stryker eyed her, then racked his brain for an idea. "Well, look at it this way. We're married-" Sonya aimed for no particular area when she kicked, but his howl informed her that her aim was better honed than she knew. "Don't kick me so _close_ to there! And let me finish!" She glared at him, then he went on, "_Pretend_ that we're married, and I screwed up big time and cleaning the oven was a way for me to beg forgiveness. That and the ice cream."

Sonya rolled a bit of her ice cream in her mouth, then said, "Your ideas really do suck half the time, Stryker." When she received the hurt expression she had aimed for, she added, "And to think before I thought they sucked all the time."

He paused, then smiled. "You really can't give compliments well, Sonya, but the goodwill thought is accepted." He stuck a hand out, and she shook it firmly.

They returned to their ice creams, but Stryker noticed her eyeing the oven. "What is it _now_?" he sighed.

"How'd you do it?"

He raised a brow. "Be more specific, Sonya. I have so many retorts running through my head I'm having a hard time choosing."

"How did you clean the oven so quickly? It took me two hours to get as far as I did."

Stryker ate another spoonful of his ice cream before getting up, walking to the sink, grabbing something, and returning. He dropped a squishy little square, hardly bigger than her thumbnail, in front of her. "I used that."

She stared. "You're joking. That's one of those dishwasher things. You know, for dishes. How can that thing clean a whole oven?"

"Switch the oven to preheat. Soak the thing til it's soapy, plop it in, then wait a few minutes. The heat makes the thing steam and the steam loosens the grime. All that was left was a few swipes of a rag."

Sonya blinked. "How did you figure _that_ out?"

"On accident. Beyond that, you don't want to know." From her look he could tell her curiosity was far from satisfied. "Sonya, I'm a bachelor with an overbearing mother. I had to learn a few tricks of the trade to make her happy. And to keep her from housecleaning like a maniac," he muttered under his breath.

She decided not to touch that subject. "I'll keep it in mind for next time," she said, then finished her carton. She grabbed two more cartons from the freezer and handed one to Stryker, who had finished his own. Wordlessly they continued eating.

This was the scene Jax and Kitana happened upon when they came to the kitchen for a meal. They looked at each other, then back at the two eating ice cream. "When did Hell freeze over?" Jax spoke up.

Stryker and Sonya looked over at the two. "We came to a truce," Stryker answered. Then they returned to their pints.

The princess of the Edenia Realm felt that borrowing trouble was not worth the hassle. She sat at the counter with them after grabbing a carton of her own ice cream (Sonya noted with a hint of surprise that Stryker was right: Kitana _did_ like _Rocky Road_) and began eating without a word. Jax was slower to join them, but did eventually with his own pint. Stryker grimaced at his _Cherry Garcia_, then went to his _NY French Vanilla_ for reassurance.

The four ate and finished their pints in silence. As they rose Sonya felt she should thank Stryker again. If it was to make up for hitting him, she refused to reckon with it. "Thanks for helping me, Stryker. I'll try and be a little more appreciative next time."

Stryker nodded his acknowledgment as she left, ignoring the incredulous look Jax was giving him. Kitana gave him a similar look before trailing Sonya.

Jax stood in front of Stryker as the latter began to leave for the rec room, appraising him. "What was that all about?" he asked, his voice slightly suspicious.

The Captain eyed his friend, trying to gauge the Major before replying. "A trade between two friends, Jax," he said finally, sliding past the larger man in order to leave. "That's all."

"'That's all' my ass," Jax followed Stryker. "You two were eating ice cream. Together."

"That is what people do when they want to eat ice cream in the same room, Jax," Stryker looked to the side where the man matched his steps. He knew Jax would never get off his case without further information, so he added, "Sonya was having a little trouble getting past the fact that she doesn't get to be a woman with Kahn invading. I helped her a little bit, and we rewarded ourselves with ice cream."

Jax did not look at ease. In fact, he seemed to grow even more irritated. "You helped her? How?"

Stryker stopped, turned to the man he had come to respect, and tried to figure out what was chewing at him. Then he realized that Jax was thinking along the more. . . sexual themes rather than something platonic. He nearly shuddered and snapped at the man (how sordid!) when he thought it through again.

And developed a more devious scheme.

He began walking casually, knowing Jax would follow. He waited a moment for Jax to fidget, and received a very rewarding fidget for his patience. "Alright, alright, I'll spill. You remember that one scene on Lethal Weapon 3?" Stryker whispered, "the one between that Gibson guy and Russo?" Jax nodded slowly, wondering what the man was getting at. "Well, it was sorta like that, only with _her_ cracking the whip, if you know what I mean." Stryker nodded, eyebrows raised, watching his handiwork play out.

Jax froze in horror. _What_ was his partner thinking! "You used my partner like that!" he hissed.

"Hey, hey, I didn't 'use' her," Stryker replied, holding his hands up in defense. He entered the rec room, Jax slowly following him. Sub-Zero was inside, setting up for meditation. "I told her I didn't want anything like that. I knew you'd be upset with it. But, then, when she started swaying her hips and taking off that _cute_ little tank-"

"I have to find Sonya," Jax groaned, racing away.

Stryker watched his retreating back, chortling. He turned to see Sub-Zero staring at him, eyes narrowed. "What was that about?" the ninja growled, much like a parent to an unruly child.

"Nothing, nothing," Stryker stretched on the couch, turning the television on. "Simply Jax learning to mind his own beeswax."

Sub-Zero watched as the television absorbed Stryker's attention before sighing mentally and settling to his meditation. He knew that if Stryker had baked up a plan, it would come out half-done and everyone would inevitably be poisoned sooner or later.

He hoped it would be later. He wanted time to complete his meditation and die in peace.

And he wanted one last pint of his _Very Berry Strawberry_ ice cream.

----------

"What was that about, Sonya?" Kitana asked her friend, looking at the Earth woman. She seemed far more content than she had been recently.

"What?" Sonya turned and smiled.

Kitana instantly knew Sonya was in a good mood. "You are smiling. Something must have happened. Or, did some_one_?"

Sonya froze, her smile melting away. "Oh, god, no, Kitana. You think Stryker and- Oh, no, no, no. Nothing like that happened."

"Then what did happen?"

They entered the consoles room where Liu Kang, Nightwolf, and the Indian's companion Kiva were situated. They swivelled in their seats to look at the women, hearing Kitana's last sentence. "Did something bad happen?" Liu asked, alarmed.

"What did Stryker do now?" Nightwolf sighed. Couldn't he and Sonya get along?

Sonya growled at the two men. "For your information, Stryker helped me. That was all," she turned her glare on Kitana.

Liu and Nightwolf looked between each other, silently agreeing to say nothing more. Women reacted strangely to men intruding on conversations. With these two women, it usually involved hurtling fans and chi-rings that singed hair.

"You gave me nothing to think otherwise, Sonya."

"And so you instantly assumed Stryker and I had sex!"

"I never said you had sex! I simply implied that the two of you might have experienced a more intimate feeling than friendship."

"Ever get the feeling we miss important things?" Nightwolf whispered to Liu.

Liu turned to Nightwolf, raising an incredulous brow. "Me, the Champion of Mortal Kombat and the Chosen One meant to defend the entire world? And you, the man that sits in front of this huge screen and watch the cameras in all the rooms? Of course we miss important things. That's the irony that kicks us in the ass trying to be funny."

The two women glared daggers at one another for another moment before letting the anger dissipate. Then Jax entered the fray.

"You and Stryker? _You_ and _Stryker_!"

Sonya looked at her partner with concern. "Jax, you alright?"

"No, the hell I ain't! What in the hell were you thinking, doing that with Stryker!"

Her suspicion began to rise. "I don't know what you think I did with Stryker, Jax, but all we did-"

"You _admit_ doing something with him!" Jax was slowly turning purple.

"Alright, everyone calm down!" Liu leapt up, laying a hand on Jax's shoulder and looking between partner and partner. "Jax, what is it that you think Sonya and Stryker did?"

"What they did? What they did was they had a time in the sack!"

Sonya's jaw dropped, pale. "We _never–_! Jax, who the hell told you that?"

"Stryker!"

The room was silent after that exclamation. Sonya's pallid face grew slowly redder before she screamed, "_Kurtis Stryker_!"

----------

Sub-Zero's eyes snapped open and he asked, "Did you hear something?"

The Captain jumped, tearing his eyes away from the television. "Huh?"

The ninja repeated his question.

"Uh, no." Stryker returned to his movie.

Poor, unfortunate Sub-Zero just barely had the time to ask himself whether he should leave the room when the door sailed open, a shrieking tornado flew into the room and pounced on the unsuspecting victim lying on the couch.

"Ahh! _Help_!" Stryker hollered as fists rained on him, unable to do anything more than shield himself.

Later, Sub-Zero wondered what had possessed him. He had grabbed at the flailing maniac and received a kick in the stomach for his pains. Normally he wouldn't have even flinched, but the person's fury gave it more force.

That, and falling onto a coffee table as it splintered doubled the pain.

It took Jax and Liu to pull the violent Sonya off Stryker and hold her in place. Stryker himself went ahead and hid behind Nightwolf, Kitana, and Sub-Zero (when the ninja returned to his feet, at least) in case they weren't enough.

"What was _that_ for?" Stryker cried, glaring at Sonya.

"You told Jax we had sex!" she yelled back.

Stryker blinked, realizing suddenly that, of course, Sonya wouldn't appreciate his joke. "Blame Jax!" he pointed an accusing finger at the Major. "He's the one that was obsessed with thinking we did it!"

Everyone turned to Jax, who replied hotly, "Well, he didn't say anything to make me think otherwise!"

"What did I say to make you think that-wise?" Stryker shot back, now growing as angry as Sonya. "You were the one with the mind in the gutter! All I did was help her clean the freaking oven! That was all, and you made it out like we starred in some sort of porno!"

"Enough!" Nightwolf yelled. Everyone looked to the Indian. He took a breath, then said as calmly as he could, "Stryker and Sonya did nothing sexual. We can all consent to that fact?" Everyone nodded, some a little more fervently than others. "Stryker made a bad- a _very_ bad decision, alright?" Consensus was reached, Stryker grumbling a little. "Jax should not have jumped to conclusions, agreed?" They nodded.

"Stryker, apologize to Sonya for using her virtue as a way to get back at Jax." Stryker mumbled the apology; Sonya accepted it grudgingly. "Sonya, apologize to Stryker for trying to maul him." She made it bitterly. "Jax, apologize to both of them for causing them this grief."

With Jax's last word, Nightwolf sighed. "Alright, that's that. If there are any other grievances, settle them in an _adult_ fashion." He glared at Sonya, then looked at Stryker. "Come with me to the infirmary, Stryker. I want to clean some of those cuts before they're infected."


	2. Doing Dishes, More Ice Cream, and Anesth

**_Doing Dishes, More Ice Cream, and 'Anesthetics'_**

When Rayden came down to mingle with his mortals (and snatch a pint of their _Mint Chocolate Chip_ while he was at it) he was greeted with a dissatisfied atmosphere.

At first he thought he was imagining it. Then he came into the kitchen.

Sonya sat beside a pile of dishes. One by one she threw a dish at the wall opposite her, listening to it break with satisfaction. Broken porcelain littered the floor next to the wall. In between pitches she took a large spoonful of _World Class Chocolate_. It was upon closer inspection that Rayden discovered the dishes had one thing in common: they were Stryker's.

"Um, Sonya," Rayden chirruped, holding an arm up when Sonya pirouetted on her chair with a dish in hand. "You do realize dishes were never meant to be replacements for softballs?"

She scowled at him angrily, turning and throwing the dish in hand. It shattered with a reverberating crash. She took another bite of her ice cream. Rayden sidled to the freezer, grabbed his own pint and sat beside his fighter.

Sonya threw a plate, but Rayden deftly caught it, setting it down gently. She glowered at him. "Don't do that," she snarled.

"I'm sure Stryker would tell you the same thing," Rayden pointed out, taking a satisfying slurp of his ice cream.

"I don't give a damn what Stryker thinks," she growled. "Stryker is an inconsiderate moron and a pig and a-" With each adjective the woman hurled a dish at the wall, and each time Rayden caught them.

"What happened?" Rayden sighed dramatically, wishing there was _one_ day where the two didn't duke it out.

"He told Jax we slept together," she growled, throwing another dish.

This time Rayden didn't catch it. "He told Jax _what_?"

"And he was acting all nice before, he helped me clean the damn oven." Another dish was thrown and saved. "And we actually talked, and we laughed at each other's jokes." She threw another dish. He saved another dish. "But then he was a bastard and made a joke of my own virtue!" She hurled a larger dish, a heavy turkey plate, at the wall. The Thunder God made no move to save it.

"Stryker isn't known for his wise decisions," Rayden admitted, rubbing her back. He put a finger to her eye, and to her surprise he wiped a tear from it. "But I'm sure he realizes this joke wasn't all that funny."

"I don't care if he does," Sonya grumbled. She took a bite of her ice cream sulkily, but she no longer threw dishes. "I got my vengeance."

Rayden looked at the pile of broken porcelain. "I'm not all too certain he's attached to tableware, Sonya."

"This was just therapy," she replied. "I kicked the crap out of him earlier."

Rayden blinked, searching for Stryker's presence. Sure enough, he was in the infirmary. "Oh." He looked down at his ice cream. It was melting. "Dammit. My ice cream's melting."

She snorted, looking at his carton. "That's what happens when you don't eat it, Rayden. I didn't know you were a _Mint Chocolate_ person."

"And I thought you were more of a _Strawberry_ person," Rayden replied, eyes sparking. "Goes to show first impressions aren't everything."

Sonya nodded, then looked at the dishes. "I feel a little guilty. It's Stryker zero, me two."

Rayden gazed at the dishes with her for a minute, then snapped his fingers. The broken dishes were now whole and clean. Another snap and they disappeared into the cupboards. "I could've let you break the other ones," he said. "But it would've been more work for me."

"Are you going to tell Stryker?" she asked.

"Nah. It'll be a secret between you and me." He patted her shoulder, then took another moment to survey her. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Sonya nodded, standing up with Rayden. "No more tears from me for today."

"That's good." Hesitantly, Rayden hugged her. To his surprise she returned it. "I'll go have a talk with Stryker, and make sure he's very aware that no repeat of this incident should ever occur."

She looked uneasy. "I don't know if it's necessary, Ray, but alright. Have fun."

The Thunder God watched her walk away, wondering how much 'crap' was kicked out of Stryker in order for Sonya to be nervous.

He teleported into the infirmary, finding Nightwolf at a desk putting away bandages and a syringe. Behind a curtain he could hear Stryker grumbling something about 'mad doctors' and 'god-be-damned needles'.

"What's up, doc?" Rayden quipped.

Nightwolf didn't even grant him a sharp breath intake. "Sonya beat Stryker half to death. Jax is pummeling the stuffing out of his seventh dummy. Sub-Zero's nursing a hurt stomach. Liu is taking his turn at the consoles. And Kitana is meditating over Earth Realm's insanity."

Rayden frowned at the knowledge of Sub-Zero. "How did Sub-Zero get hurt?"

"Innocent bystander in Sonya's lust for Stryker's blood."

A curtain slunk back as Stryker shuffled out of his cubicle, holding an ice pack to his eye. "She didn't have to hit my eye," he moaned.

Taking one long look at Stryker, Rayden winced for the man. His swollen left eye was black and blue, he had several cuts on his face, his nose was at the slightest of angles and recently recovered from a bleeding, and he hobbled like a new horse rider.

"That's what you get, Stryker," Nightwolf told him, but sympathy did lace his tone.

The Captain turned his one good eye to the god. "Did you come here to gawk," he muttered, "or did you come here to give me a sound yelling? The beating's already been done."

Rayden smiled apologetically. "I did tell Sonya I'd have a talk with you. Though, I doubt she will think less of me if I only warned you against doing something like this again."

"My ears thank you." Stryker propped himself against Nightwolf's desk. "The ringing finally went away."

Tilting his head, the Thunder God asked, "How badly did she hurt you? I didn't think even she was capable of this."

"Neither did I," Stryker snapped, then cringed as his jaw ached.

"It's mostly minor aches and pains," Nightwolf told Rayden. "They only seem terrible because of his appearance."

"Speak for yourself," Stryker grumbled. "I'm hurting like I got trampled by a herd of elephants."

"That's why I gave you the anesthetic," Nightwolf turned to the man.

Stryker glowered at the Indian. "And a fat lot of help it's doing. I'm still feeling the-" He stopped suddenly, eyes glazing over slightly. "Wow. Hehehe. Wow. That's a nice feeling. Wow. Okay, I think I'm cured. Wow. Hehehe, I'm gonna go now." Stryker stood and took a step, completely unbalanced.

"Catch him!" Nightwolf yelled as Stryker fell. Rayden kept him from hitting the ground, easily grasping the man's shoulders and preventing him from collapsing on his face. The bag of ice slipped from Stryker's grip and slushed on the floor.

"That was a pretty strong anesthetic," Rayden commented.

"Wasn't an anesthetic," Nightwolf replied, guiding Rayden to a bed. "It was a sedative. It's the only way I can keep him here."

"Sneaky. Tell me, what do you tell him when he wakes up?"

"He ought not to have eaten the candy bar I gave him."

* * *

Bah! The insanity! The stupidity!There is more where this came from; it's all a matter of posting.Let's see how many people actually review to tell me to die a painful death first before I post, though. 'big grin' 


	3. A Vacation, Some More Ice Cream, and a H

For those who don't bother going into an author's profile, here is fair warning: if you thought the last two chapters were, shall we say, stupid, then you may wish to turn back now. It only gets worse from here. Seriously.

Story note: A while passes. How long? Use your imagination and decide for yourselves.

* * *

**_A Vacation, Some More Ice Cream, and a Haunted Spa_**

"You are all going on a vacation," Rayden proclaimed to his Defenders. "_Everyone_ is going on this vacation," his glare was turned to Sub-Zero and Liu, both known to prefer training during their off-duty hours, "and _everyone_ is going to relax." This time his glare was sent to Nightwolf and Jax, notorious for finding themselves in stressful situations.

"Don't worry, Rayden," Kitana told him. "We will accept this vacation with pleasure."

"Where're we going, anyway?" Jax asked.

"A spa in Japan. There are-"

"Whoa!" Sonya straightened, looking horrified. "A spa? As in massages and horrible-smelling bath salts?"

Rayden blinked. "Yes."

"No way," Stryker shook his head fervently. "I am not a spa person. Give me tickets to the New York Rangers' Saturday game and I'll be a relaxed man."

"And I'd rather snow-board at Aspen," Sonya added.

"You're all going to Japan for relaxation," Rayden growled at the two. "It's not just for your benefit. It's so _I_ don't go insane trying to go to seven different places at once if and, hopefully not, _when_ all of you get into trouble."

Sonya folded her arms, disgruntled. "Do you think they have snow-boarding there?"

"I doubt it," Rayden told her.

"I don't wanna go," Stryker sulked, sitting back in his chair. "And you can't make me."

----------

"I don't wanna go," Stryker sulked, sitting on the bus up to the spa. "And he _made_ me."

"He made the both of us go," Sonya grumbled.

"C'mon you guys," Liu looked over his seat and grinned. "This isn't so bad. Look at the beautiful scenery. Listen to the calm wind."

"I want to see the insanity of a hockey game," Stryker growled, "and I want to listen to the cheers of my fellow Rangers fans."

"Spoil sport," Jax scolded, then stood as the bus came to a stop. "Let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner it's over and the two of you can sulk at the base."

"I want to be snow-boarding down the mountains," Sonya frowned. "I want to wipe out and lie in the snow. I _want_ to be trapped in the chairlift up to the top."

"They're still complaining?" Sub-Zero observed needlessly as he and Nightwolf joined Liu, Jax, and Kitana.

"Like little kids," Jax chuckled. "Hey, we have a reservation at eight and it's five till. We better move it."

The group of seven trudged up the stairs and into the lobby, Sonya and Stryker glowering at the Oriental design from the far back. Two women came up to Liu and Jax, who were in the lead, and confirmed their party. They were led down a hall to a fork. "This way leads to the steam rooms," one woman said, completely solemn.

"The massages down this way, you may go," the other chirped, a strange smile pasted on her face.

The Defenders looked between one another. "I want my hockey game," Stryker moaned.

"I will go to the steam room," Kitana decided. Liu instantly agreed with her and led her away down the correct hallway.

"Anyone dare share a room with them?" Jax quipped. He turned to the women. "Hey, is there a gym anywhere around here?"

"Through this doorway," the first woman bowed low, extending an arm to the door they had dismissed. Jax shrugged and went through it, Sub-Zero following him.

"I think I'll follow Liu and Kitana," Nightwolf told Sonya and Stryker, and promptly left them. Kiva loyally stayed at his heels.

They looked at one another. "I suppose we'll have to make do with what we got stuck with," Sonya sighed.

Stryker slumped his shoulders. "I guess so. But I want my hockey game."

Sonya shook her head and left the man for the massages, and the two women converged on Stryker. "Choose, which shall you?" the cheerful woman prodded him.

"Uh," Stryker looked between the hallways, but his concentration was broken when the woman prodded him again. "Hey, stop it- stop- Enough! I'll go to the massage!"

The woman instantly stopped poking him, the asinine smile still plastered on her face. "Very well, you are. Leave, we shall." And the women did leave. Stryker stared after them, sighed, then trailed Sonya down the hall.

When he reached the end Sonya was missing. There was a sign-in sheet; he saw her name on it and followed suit.

"This way, sir," a voice said. Stryker jumped, finding a woman standing at a door.

"Don't do that," Stryker hissed, but did as she said. She followed him in, demanded his clothes, and gave him a towel when he stripped to his boxers. The door shut behind her, leaving him in an oddly-lit room. He sat on a bed, dangling his legs over the edge.

"Stryker?" Sonya's voice startled him. When he turned, he saw her lying face-down on the bed next to him, a towel draped over the lower-half of her body.

"Er," Stryker looked back at the door, then to Sonya. "Yeah. The lady told me to come here. So, I did."

"That's. . . obvious." Sonya looked at the door as well. "They said the masseuses would be ready soon."

"Alright," Stryker finished as the door opened and a well-built, handsome man entered.

"Where is Stryker?" the man said, voice hostile.

Stryker's stomach lurched, the humor of the situation entirely lost upon him. He turned to Sonya frantically, hissing from the side of his mouth, "Get me out of this! Say you're me!"

Blinking, Sonya raised a hand and said with a squeak, "Stryker, that's me. That is most definitely me."

The man's attitude changed drastically; he was much more congenial. "I will be your masseuse for the day, miss," he went over to the table, putting lotion on his hands. All Sonya could do was grin and giggle like a schoolgirl.

Rolling his eyes, Stryker prepared to leave (there was no way he'd be listening to the guy "charm" Sonya all day) when his masseuse came in. "Well, well, am I to believe you are Blade?"

Stryker turned and dropped his jaw. A model stood at his bed, pouty red lips and all.

"At your service," he smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad vacation after all.

The woman chuckled. "I believe _I'm_ the one who services here. Just lay back, and let me do all the work." She dropped lotion in her hand, making her already-delectable scent even more pleasurable. "And perhaps," she whispered in his ear, "after we're done here, we can go into the baths. They only allow towels, you know."

Oh, yes. He could now join Sonya in heavenly bliss.

----------

"Jax, something is going on here," Sub-Zero intoned to the man as he benched 560 lbs. "The staff is acting. . . suspiciously."

"Rayden told us to relax, Sub," Jax told the ninja. "Being paranoid isn't relaxing."

_Paranoia differentiates the idiot from the living_, Sub-Zero recalled from his Lin Kuei training. "I would like to relax, Jax. I can't do that when my senses are on the alert."

Jax placed the bar on the supports, sighing at his friend. "Alright, how about we take a tour of the place? Get you used to here and then we can come back for your turn."

"Familiarity won't change my suspicions," Sub-Zero said but he followed Jax as the Major left, wondering if the spa sold _Very Berry Strawberry_ ice cream. He stopped halfway, though, and stared in shock at an incredible phenomenon. "Jax. . . ."

"Come on, we can check out the cafeteria here. Maybe they have some Ben & Jerry's—"

"_Jax_. . . ."

"Sub, quit being a baby-" the Major finally turned, seeing what the ninja had seen.

Several 100 lbs. weights in the far corner of the room hovered eye-level to the two men, and slowly other weights copied the other lead units. The bars soon followed, as well as the dumbbells and medicine balls. The water fountain made a high-pitched whirring noise and erratically spouted (oddly) _Jamoca_ ice cream.

"What the hell?" Jax gasped.

"Let's go!" Sub-Zero yelled as the weights began hurtling towards them. He froze and shattered any that came to close, Jax smashing them as they came to him.

They burst out of the gym, slamming the door shut behind them. The door splintered and proceeded to crack the wood.

"We should find Liu and the others," Jax breathed, lurching forward on shaky legs.

"Right," Sub-Zero nodded, then punched Jax hard on the shoulder. The man yelped, and when he glared at the ninja for an explanation, Sub-Zero said, "That was for calling me a baby, _nay ho chun_."

Jax stared after him, momentarily forgetting his danger as the weights pounded on the door behind him. "What did you just call me?"

"_Nay ho chun_. _Nay sik teng ma_?"

"You're insulting me, aren't you?"

"Of course."


	4. The Cavalry, Even More Ice Cream, and Pr

**_The Cavalry, Even More Ice Cream, and Pranksters_**

"Not even three hours," Rayden sighed as he looked at his devitalized Defenders, "and already you need help?"

"This spa is haunted, I swear, Rayden!" Jax hissed. "The weights in the gym started floating in the air and tried to bury us!"

"The steam room almost suffocated us," Liu jumped in. "And not just from the heat. The steam came alive, and formed bodies. Actual bodies!"

Nightwolf and Kitana nodded wildly, and a panicked Kiva yipped in agreement.

"Somehow the doors became locked," Nightwolf tried to explain the phenomenon. "We only got out because Jax broke the door down."

Rayden shook his head. "Nonsense. You're overreacting to something. Indigestion-"

"We never ate anything," Kitana shot the idea down.

"Something in the water-"

"We never drank anything either," Sub-Zero snapped.

"Anything could be affecting your minds," the Thunder God peered down at them. "I mean, look around. Do any of you see Stryker or Sonya?"

"We haven't found them yet," Liu replied. "You _finally_ answered us before we did."

"Rayden, what is your point?" Sub-Zero frowned.

"Sonya and Stryker are always in the thick of trouble. One way or another, we can always find them somewhere in the middle of everything. So, where are they, if there is anything 'supernatural' going on?"

"Probably in the thick of trouble, like you said," Jax retorted, "and we're just standing around here talking because you don't believe us!"

"Rayden," Kitana suddenly spoke up, "if you truly don't believe our words, perhaps you'll believe _that_."

She pointed behind everyone, and when they turned they saw an ice-cream demon looming over them, easily skimming its head on the fourteen-foot-high ceiling. His flesh dripped on the floor, making puddles of ice-cream. A trail lay behind the beast, thick and dark.

"Oh," Rayden looked up into the demon's vacant eyes, "my. He's tall."

"And he's heading straight for us!" Liu yelled, spurring everyone to clear out of the way with the exception of Rayden. He stood in the hallway, staring back at the demon.

"Ray, what are you doing-" Jax started to yell when the monster tipped forward, snarled, and swallowed the god whole.

The Defenders stood immobile, watching as the demon apparently had difficulty swallowing. There was a loud gulping noise, and the demon looked content. Then electricity sparkled around it, causing the ice-cream demon to roar and double over. With one last, piteous whimper the demon's body dispersed into waves of _Pralines 'n' Cream_, leaving the Thunder God standing and facing his warriors.

Covered in ice cream and missing his marvelous, golden, conical hat, the god was a sight to behold and laugh at. And so the Defenders did.

"There goes your Christmas salaries," Rayden muttered, thumping the butt of his staff on the ground twice. His clothes restored themselves to their clean state and a hat (exactly like the last one) found a home on his head and replaced his eyes back into their shadows. "Alright. So something fishy is going on. It doesn't make sense. I've known of this place for years. Nothing strange has ever happened."

"Well, something's different about it," Nightwolf said acerbically. "I doubt the entire staff of this spa suddenly changed into demons sent from Hell _just_ to screw around with our vacation." Kiva whimpered and lowered his head, nudging the Indian for solace.

"Um, guys?" Liu gulped. "Look." He pointed behind them again.

Several of the steam-bodies, ice-cream demons (of every flavor), and lead weights lined the hallway, ready to launch themselves.

Rayden stared, then turned to his Defenders. "Okay. I say we figure out what the hell is going on. _After_ we run from these things."

The Defenders were about to protest (they were world warriors, and they were supposed to run away from _this_ danger?) when a _Mango Tango_ demon smashed his fist in the wall next to him. He broke the wood in an imperfect circle with a radius of at least ten feet.

Running seemed like a very good idea then.

----------

"This was a very good idea," Stryker sighed to Sonya as they sank into the hot water. "Why were we against this very good idea?"

"I don't remember," Sonya closed her eyes, reveling in the relaxed heaven her muscles enjoyed so much. "I don't care, even. This feels too damn good."

"Agreed," Stryker nodded. He opened his own eyes to see his masseuse, Lily, standing at the rim of the bath he and Sonya shared, wearing that pout that made him melt. "Excuse me."

Sonya didn't hear him. She was too content. Nothing could make this more idyllic.

The masculine hands on her shoulders rubbing gentle, smooth circles argued that belief. She looked up into Pablo's eyes, smiling when he gave her that pearly smile. "You're too nice," she whispered.

"Anything for a beauty like you," he murmured, sinking into the water with her.

Her belief was solidly defeated. But, for some odd reason, she heard screams in this Eden. She placed it in the back of her mind when Pablo kissed her thoroughly.

----------

The Defenders and Earth's Protector locked themselves in the lobby, piling furniture in front of the door. They took that precious time to catch their breaths and to sort the problem out.

"Maybe it's a plot from Kahn," Sub-Zero gasped. "Catch us off-guard while we're supposed to have a vacation."

"No," Rayden shook his head. "Kahn knows nothing of this place. And even if he did, I would sense some sort of magic reaching into Outworld. No, these demons are originating from somewhere on Earth."

Something pounded on the door: the lead weights. "What do we do now?" Kitana asked. "We can't keep ourselves locked here forever."

"Where are the women?" Liu frowned.

The group stared at the Champion. "Liu, two things," Jax replied. "One, you're a monk, you're not supposed to be going after women. Two, you have Kitana in spite of number one."

Liu scowled at the Major. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Jax. I meant the two women that showed us where to go. Shouldn't they be here?"

They looked around. The Champion was right: minus themselves, no one was present.

"What two women are you talking about?" Rayden asked his fighters.

"The two women in charge," Nightwolf told him.

Rayden frowned. "The people in charge are two men, both old in age. The only women here are masseuses and minor faculty members."

The Defenders traded looks. "We've either been targeted," Jax furrowed his brows, "or we've been had."

His teammates nodded, but Rayden was slower to respond. He had a look of deep thinking. His eyes abruptly sparked and he roared, "_Thunder_! _Pyra_! _Come here this_ _instant_!"

There was a sudden lull when all sound stopped, but slowly a mysterious sound filled their ears. It took the adults some time before they realized what it was: children giggling.

Two forms teleported into the room, both an even four feet in height. One was a boy, a miniature Rayden without the hat, displaying wildly strewn silver hair that had not reached the length of his unmistakable father. The second was a girl, plainly unrelated to Rayden and the boy. Her hair was fire without heat, and her eyes were a solid emerald green rather than the blank white of her companion. She had a simple green kimono, but there was a wide slit in the front to allow her black-clad legs to move. Both children had wide grins on their faces, but those slowly faded as Rayden towered over them.

"_What in the name of the Maker are you doing_?" the god hissed, eyes electrified.

The two children shamelessly gave the god puppy eyes. "Nothing, Dad," the boy, Thunder, replied. "What makes you think we were doing anything?"

Rayden wasn't buying it. "I sense your presence everywhere in this spa," he growled. "And something–or some_one_–has been causing my Defenders grief."

"A coincidence," the girl, Pyra, shrugged.

"I also strictly informed the both of you that you could not see the mortals of Earth," Rayden continued on, eyes glowing brighter by the minute. "And you were highly upset by it."

"We're mature, Dad," Thunder waved a hand. "We would never disobey _you_."

"Yes, you would," Rayden retorted, not in the least bit amused.

Pyra looked at her companion. "Thunder, I think we've been caught."

The boy looked at her. "I think you're right." He tried winning his father over with another smile. "We're really, really sorry, Dad, but we wanted to see these mortals that you're so obsessed with."

"_I am not obsessed with mortals_." Thunder began to echo Rayden's words. The boy and girl started to show fear on their faces. "_And that is not a reason to cause my fighters distress_!"

"I think those kids need help," Liu whispered to Jax.

"For all the trouble they've caused us, I hardly care," Sub-Zero whispered to the Champion, overhearing him.

"But _Dad_," the boy whined, fidgeting like all children do when they wanted something. "We just wanted a peek at them! And we never meant to scare them, we just wanted to play!"

"Yeah, Lord Rayden," Pyra nodded fervently. "We'll apologize!"

Rayden glowered at them, then turned to his Defenders. "What do you think?" he asked.

The mortals looked between one another. They huddled in a circle, and after deliberating (during which the two children wiggled and squirmed) they turned to the Thunder God and the children. "Just one question, and we'll forgive you. What did you do with Stryker and Sonya?"

The two children looked at each other, then stared back blankly. "Who?" Pyra asked.

"Don't be difficult, Pyra," Rayden growled. "Your father won't look at this escapade any kindlier if you are stubborn."

"Honestly, Dad," Thunder shook his head. "Who're they talking about? We only picked on your Defenders."

The adults blinked. "Stryker and Sonya _are_ two of my Defenders," Rayden replied.

Pyra and Thunder exchanged looks, Pyra haughty and Thunder uneasy. "I _told_ you those two were a part of the group," the former snapped. "Did you listen to me? Oh, noo, Pyra doesn't know anything, Pyra just knows how to engulf everything in fire!"

"I didn't know!" Thunder snapped back. "And you weren't any more sure than me! You just _thought_ they _might_ be a part of the group!"

"You mean to say," Nightwolf stepped forward, "that all this time you were torturing us, you left them alone?"  
They nodded.

The mortal adults stared at one another. "I feel cheated," Jax grumbled.

"What did you do with the regular staff?" Rayden frowned at his son and his friend.

"We just witched them so they were elsewhere when we greeted them," Thunder mumbled, trying to drill a hole in the floor with the toe of his shoe. "Everyone else is fine."

"So Stryker and Sonya had a normal day," Rayden rubbed his chin. "That's some relief. I would have hated for those two to have a terrible time and carp on me how they should've been allowed to go to their places."

"Do you want me to dump brimstone on them?" Pyra chirped hopefully. At Rayden's glare, she returned to being contrite.

"Why not?" Sub-Zero snorted. "Their day was perfectly fine, it'd do them good to have _something_ go wrong."

"You know that's an oxymoron," Nightwolf pointed out.

"You're right. It would do _us_ good."

"I think we should return to the more important matter at hand," Kitana broke in. Everyone turned to her. "We still don't know where they are."

----------

Stryker lay, completely at ease, on the fold chairs on the roof of the spa, absorbing the rays of the sun. Sonya rested next to him on her stomach, tanning her back.

The man took another peek at her form, whistling in his head. He knew Sonya was attractive, but her in a bikini was a sight he could count with half the fingers on one hand, so he drank the sight of her as many times as he dared. His sunglasses (originally to ward off the glare of the sun) hid the direction of his gaze, for which he was thankful. If Sonya knew he was looking. . . the results would be disastrous.

What he didn't know was that the woman was fully aware of his scrutiny. And she didn't mind in the least. The day had relaxed her to the point where she could be a real, true woman, and the prospect of a man, even Stryker, making eyes at her filled her with feminine giddiness.

It wasn't like she wasn't making her own inspection. Him in his black shorts was eye candy, to her shock and pleasure. For all that he was hardly muscular like Liu or Jax, there was something attractive in his smooth torso.

They had gone to the rooftop after their bathing session to sunbathe, but to their dismay their masseuses had to return to work. After a half-hour lying in the warm rays their gloom had dissipated. The alcoholic drinks to the side of their chairs with the miniature umbrellas and several bowls of ice cream also helped in that regard.

Stryker wrinkled his brows. He was suddenly a few degrees colder; not a lot, but enough to disgruntle him. He slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose with a tilt of his head to be treated to the sight of a vexed Lord Rayden.

"Um, Rayden?" Stryker drawled, "You're blocking my rays."

Sonya turned and peered up at him over the rim of her own sunglasses. "Yes. Move."

The other Defenders joined Rayden, along with two children. Sonya and Stryker easily identified the boy as a relative to the god. "We're all joyful that _you _are both having a relaxing time," Jax frowned at them.

"Yes," Nightwolf agreed tersely. "Joyful indeed." Kiva growled deep in his throat, catching the two off-guard.

"What's up with you guys?" Sonya raised a brow. "You act like you had a horrible time."

The two watched as the Defenders turned to the children, who looked down with shame. "We played tricks on your friends," Pyra murmured. "We didn't know you were with them, so we didn't bother you two."

Stryker and Sonya looked at each other, then back at the group standing before them. "Does this mean the vacation's over?" Stryker asked sorrowfully.

"Yes," the Defenders chorused and, ignoring their protests, manhandled the two down to the lobby, allowing them minimal time to dress.

They were almost out the door when Pablo and Lily entered, dismayed at seeing Sonya and Stryker leaving. "You should come back, Blade," Lily whispered to Stryker, kissing him. Pablo gave Sonya a similar gift. "I'll be waiting on tenterhooks for you, Miss Stryker," he said, making the woman laugh softly. The two masseuses left.

The group behind them stared. "What was that about?" Liu questioned.

"And why did they switch your names?" Sub-Zero frowned.

Stryker scratched the back of his head; Sonya shuffled uncomfortably. "It's a really, _really_ long story," Stryker said at last. "Why don't we wait til we get back to the base? Actually, I think _your_ more important story should be put out of the way before we start on something so frivolous as _our_ day."

"I agree with Stryker," Sonya nodded hurriedly, following him out the door. "Let's go."

Kitana arched a brow gracefully, realization dawning on her. "I think the two of you had plenty of fun this day," she said.

The two halted, looking back with slightly guilty looks. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kit," Sonya tried denying it.

"You know exactly what I mean," the princess retorted. "You and Stryker," pausing with a look at the two children, "had a romantic time with your masseuses."

The two froze. The Defenders and Rayden picked up on Kitana's meaning. "Is that true?" Nightwolf gasped.

They shifted. "It's none of your business whether we did or not," Stryker finally retorted. "You should be happy we found some time to relax."

The death stares they received argued otherwise. "Think we should run?" Sonya whispered to Stryker.

The stares got worse.

"Definitely," Stryker nodded, and they fled with the five other mortals on their tails.

Thunder looked up at his father. "You were right, Dad," he said.

"What was I right about?" Rayden asked tiredly; he was beginning to consider retirement.

"Mortals _are_ strange," Pyra answered for the both of them.


	5. Bakery Goodness, Additional Ice Cream, a

A little quickie update before I go work on my homework and attempt to go to bed early so I can recuperate. FYI, at the time I wrote this I had _no_ idea how to play poker, or that the suits had a certain hierarchy of power/better hand. I would change it to be a proper game of poker and maybe in the future I will, but at the moment me losing my voice and not feeling even 90 is keeping me from being anally-retentive about the details. Go ahead and flame, they'll only be used to keep me warm in the cold WA months.**_

* * *

_**

**_Bakery Goodness, Additional Ice Cream, and Gambling Gods_**

Sonya trekked around the base with a deck of cards, looking for Stryker. Because of the semi-disastrous vacation (she and Stryker _did_ have a terrific time) the other Defenders had demanded another _real_ vacation. Sensing their jealousy, she and Stryker had turned Rayden's offer politely down, insisting they should watch over the base and make sure Shao Kahn didn't attempt anything crafty.

But Kahn had either taken his own siesta or was bored of invading: nothing troubled Earth Realm. Thus, they had been driven mindlessly bored and turned to activities to keep the drool off their chins.

She had baked. She had baked many, many, _many_ cookies, muffins, pies, cakes, and assorted pastries. Contrary to Stryker's knowledge, she knew how to cook. She simply never volunteered. When the others returned, they would find the kitchen stuffed with morsels to eat. But she bored of that activity soon enough, and so she played cards.

One-player card games were _so_ boring.

So now she was in search of Stryker for a more interesting round of cards. The problem was, she didn't know where he had settled himself.

"It's not like he has many places to hide," she grumbled. She had even checked the men's showers. Not only did she not find him there, but she discovered the men were much more meticulous about their showers than she and Kitana suspected.

Finally she found him stretched on the couch in the rec room, reading a book. Scanning the cover, she wrinkled her nose. He was reading smut.

"Such enlightening material," Stryker jumped at Sonya's scathing voice, looking over his book to see her scowling at him. To his curiosity she shuffled a deck of cards. "Tell me, is that what the boys read in order to make up for health class?"

He looked at the book. "No, this is just for my own pleasure. What did you want? Or can I go back to Danielle and Courtney?"

Sonya pursed her lips. "I won't even ask what they're doing," she said.

"It's actually very interesting-"

"Will you play cards with me or not?" she broke in, glaring at him.

He wondered if there even was a second answer. "I sorta want to finish this-"

His impression was correct. She grabbed his arm and hauled him off the couch, saying all the while, "Finish it later, we're playing cards."

That was how he found himself at the kitchen table, across from Sonya and surrounded by bakery goods. "Who went shopping at Hostess's and didn't tell me?"

"I baked. What do you want to play?"

Stryker eyed her suspiciously. "Will it matter what I want to play? And since when do you know how to bake?"

"I've known how to bake for a while, Stryker. And I don't care what we play, as long as it's interesting."

_Interesting, eh?_ "How about strip poker?" At her frown, he raised his hands. "I'm a guy, what did you expect of me? A game of bridge? Besides, you owe me something erotic."

Sonya scowled. "Fine. But I'm not taking my delicates off."

Stryker pouted in an honest fashion. "Why not? You looked so good when-" he cut himself off, reminding himself that she wasn't supposed to know of his Peeping Tom episode.

She smirked, making his heart sink. "I looked so good when. . . what? When I was in my bikini and you were gaping at me?" At his flinch, and the slightest of arm-raising, she decided to reassure him. "I knew, Stryker. And might I say, you didn't look so bad in your shorts either."

He perked. "So, you liked that, huh? Well-"

"No, I'm still not taking off my bra or panties."

"But then what's the point of strip poker if you don't properly strip?"

"Stryker, do you realize that if I have to strip all the way, you have to do the same?"

He stopped arguing, his mouth partly opened. He had not, in actuality, realized that fact. "Well, I'm pretty good at poker, so I should do fine."

"I played strip poker with Jax once," she remarked casually. "I had most of my clothes while he was busy taking his socks off– his last garments aside from his boxers."

Thinking it through, Stryker knew he would either have to sacrifice his pride or acquiesce to Sonya's demands. He had played Jax poker once before–not strip, of course–and the Major was a fine player. If Sonya had beaten him that well. . . .

"Alright, how about this," Stryker drummed his fingers. "We don't strip the last articles, and by last articles I mean the garments that. . . hide our badges of maturity. Instead, we have certain. . . wagers that we must fulfill."

She had to admit, in spite of his testosterone inclinations, the Captain came up with good alternatives. "Alright. What sort of wagers?" she asked, for clarification.

Stryker sat back. "_Anything_ the winner says. They say to run around the base _au naturel_, the person runs around the base _au naturel_. So on and so forth."

Tricky. And high-risk, too. Sonya wasn't all too certain she should take the man up on his offer, but his arrogant smirk made her eager to wipe it off. "Alright, Captain, you're on."

They shook hands on it. And so the battle of the sexes was underway.

------

It was four hours later, and they found themselves at a stalemate.

One game of poker had not taken that long, of course. They were both too good for that. It was their third game, and supposedly the tiebreaker.

But, tiebreakers were never supposed to end in stalemates.

Both Stryker and Sonya were down to their last articles, the rest of their clothes strewn elsewhere. They stared at each other, hoping the other would forfeit.

"So," Sonya finally said.

"So," Stryker echoed.

"Do you want to forfeit and save yourself the extra hour of losing another round?" Sonya suggested.

"Why don't _you_ forfeit?" Stryker retorted.

"Because I won the first round."

"You cheated! You had one more article than me!"

"That's not cheating! That's being a woman! And besides, you made me let you wear your damn cap the second round to even it out."

"And I won that second round!"

"Because you cheated and looked at my cards using the reflection of the microwave!"

"I did not!"

"Yes you did!"

"No I didn't!"

"Did!"

"Not!"

"_Did_!"

"_Not_!"

They sat and fumed. "Alright," Sonya growled. "One more game. No cheating, and no looking under the table!" she snapped as he slouched.

He sat straight, scowling. "I wasn't looking under the table."

"Yes you were!"

"No I wasn't!"

"Yes you were!"

"No, I wasn't!"

"Were!"

"Wasn't!"

"_Were_!"

"_Wasn't_!"

------

"Mortals are so strange," a person told a second, tilting her head slightly. "They argue so much, yet they are friends."

"That's the way mortals work," the second god (for that was what the beings were) shrugged. "That's also what makes them interesting, Fyodora. Once you live as long as I have, you won't be so surprised. And I told you the woman would win."

The first god scowled at her shorter companion. "Don't get smug, Montagu. It does little for your complexion."

"You're just upset that you were wrong and I was right," Montagu, the (short) God of Gambling, smirked. "Don't fret, Fyodora. I've been doing this for seven hundred centuries. I've a knack for knowing where to place my bets. You'll get that feeling in a few more centuries."

Fyodora slumped her shoulders, letting her white-blonde hair fall around her face. "If you're so good at this, why did you need an assistant?"

"I _didn't_ need an assistant. The Eldest told me I had to take one or face demotion."

"You are cruel," she growled, eyes flaring. "Very, very cruel."

"In this business, Fyo, if you aren't one extreme, you have to be another. I would much rather be cruel and factual than kind and air-headed. That's why I have you. You balance me."

Comparing his short black hair to her ankle-length blonde, she said, "I think there's more differences between us than just our attitudes."

He raised his head; her seven feet of height made it difficult for his five foot height to match. "Don't start, Fyo. I've enough flak for my height as it is, I don't need it from my junior."

She snorted, then looked down at Rayden's mortals. "Honestly, I don't see why Rayden is so interested in those beings. What good are they, aside from a bit of fun every now and then?"

"They have one thing us gods have yet to perfect," Montagu smiled, drawing out a gallon bucket of _Chocolate_ ice cream and two spoons, sitting back to enjoy the show. "_Ice cream_."

------

"Now that is what I call a vacation," Jax stretched, walking through the halls with the other Defenders upon their return to the base. "No bad weather, no pranksters, just a good time and a sunny beach."

"I wonder where Sonya and Stryker are?" Kitana said. "I feel bad for scaring them."

"They deserved it," Liu grumbled. "They got to have a perfectly fine vacation while we were chased around by demons and lead weights."

Sub-Zero raised a hand to halt them, and the group looked at the ninja questioningly. "Do any of you hear that? The yelling?"

They stood still, straining their ears. Just when Nightwolf was about to say that he heard nothing the screams became plain.

"I won!"

"No, I won!"

"I did!"

"No you didn't!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did!"

"Not!"

"_Did_!"

"_Not_!"

"It seems even a vacation can't cool their tempers with each other," Nightwolf observed, leading the others to the source of the yelling. There they all froze.

The kitchen was filled with baked goods, from the top of the refrigerator to the floor. Lying around the floor were clothing, wrinkled and pulled inside-out from a quick undressing.

Seated at the table littered with playing cards were the owners of the clothes: Stryker and Sonya.

"Sonya, you know I won!"

"I won, Stryker, and that's final!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Yes, I did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"_Didn't_!"

"_Did_!"

"What is going on here?" Jax yelled over them, eyes wide.

Stryker and Sonya jumped, turning to see their friends. "Oh, hey, Jax," Stryker grinned uneasily. "We were just, uh, having an innocent conversation."

"Really?" Nightwolf scoffed. "Your 'innocent conversation' was heard all the way down the hall and around the corner. And no one strips for an innocent conversation."

They shifted. "We played poker," Sonya replied, then glared at Stryker. "And I won."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"Hold it!" Liu threw up his hands, catching their attention. "No more yelling! Who's hand is better?"

"Mine!" they said simultaneously.

"Dumb question," Jax muttered to the Champion. He walked over and looked at each of their hands, raising a brow. "Weird."

"What is it?" Kitana asked.

"They both have royal flushes."

"And I won!" the two players glowered at one another.

"Enough," Nightwolf interrupted, going over to the table and gathering the cards. "We'll cut the deck and see who has the higher card. The highest card is the winner."

Folding their arms over their chests, Sonya and Stryker waited for Nightwolf to shuffle the deck and hold it out for them. They cut the deck, looked at their bottom card, and let out a triumphant yell. "I won!" Then they went back to glowering at each other.

"Let's see them," Nightwolf rolled his eyes.

They tilted their hands; the two cards were both aces.

Everyone congregated around the table. "That's weird," Liu blinked. "Try again."

And so they did. Again. And again. Five minutes and fifteen shuffles later Nightwolf gave up. "How about you're both the winners?" he tried.

They shook their heads hard. "I have to win!" they chorused. Then glared again.

Sub-Zero sighed and formed a long but thin icicle in his hand. "Break this apart," he ordered. "The one with the longest piece will be victor." He yelped and backed away when the two rivals snatched at the ice at the same time. They snapped it viciously, but were stumped when the icicle came out to be perfectly even.

"What is going on here?" Sonya slumped her shoulders. "Why can't I win?"

"Why can't _I_ win?" Stryker retorted, just as dispirited.

"Why can't who win?" Rayden asked, teleporting in as per his usual way: unannounced. "And what in the name of the Eldest is going on here?" he raised his brows at Stryker's and Sonya's states of undress.

"We were playing poker," Stryker answered him sullenly. "But we can't break our tie because somehow we always come out even."

Rayden cocked his head, looking at the cards and the broken icicle. "Games of chance?" he frowned, the cogwheels in his brain turning.

"Yes," the American mortals nodded. Sub-Zero and Kitana were slightly confused.

The Thunder God didn't say anything for a minute, then he sighed. "Montagu."

"Bless you," Stryker quipped.

"Funny. Montagu is the God of Gambling. He likes to mess with my mortals a bit; he thinks its hilarious when their odds don't turn out right. That and he likes to steal my ice cream," Rayden added under his breath.

"Then go up there and tell him to stop messing with us!" Sonya demanded. "Stryker and I need to settle this. Now!"

"Go ahead and cut the deck again. Montagu won't try anything while I'm here."

Scowling at the god suspiciously, the two did as he said. Sonya's card was a king, Stryker's was an ace.

"I won!" they shouted again, then scowled at each other. "What do you mean you won? I did! No you didn't! _I did_!"

"Great," Sub-Zero sighed. "Their fighting has gotten to the point where they can yell exactly what the other is going to yell."

"Ace is high! Ace beats king!"

"No, ace is _low_, king beats ace!"

"Ace is high! That's how you play it in poker!"

"Poker rules don't apply when cutting the deck!"

"Yes they do!"

"No they don't!"

"Just cut the deck again!" everyone yelled.

Timidly, the two looked at the group, reshuffled the deck, and split it again. This time Sonya's card was the three of spades.

"Damn," she mumbled.

"Ha, that'll be easy to beat," Stryker grinned. Looking at his card, Stryker gaped, then dropped his head. "Dammit. I shouldn't have jinxed it."

He held out the two of hearts.

"Yes!" Sonya cried. "I won!"

"Stop crowing," Stryker scowled. "It's not lady-like to be presumptuous."

She smirked at him. "You're only upset because I won and you lost."

"Is this over now?" Kitana asked them.

"No," Sonya chuckled. "Stryker still has to fulfill the wager."

"Wager?" the group repeated, nervous. That did not sound good.

"Just tell me so I can get it over with," Stryker growled, not looking forward to it at all.

Sonya's grin only got wider. "You have to kiss someone."

His brows rose; he didn't look quite so upset. "Really?"

"Yep. You have to kiss Kiva. On the equivalent of the lips."

Stryker froze. Slowly he turned to the wolf, who looked back at him curiously. "No. No, no, no. Absolutely, positively, without a single doubt in my mind, no. There is no way you will make me kiss that mutt. No way in the seven Hells."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it well enough, I may or may not post another chapter to this within the next week; it depends on how far I've gotten on my other 2 WIP (read: if I don't actually finish the chapters that I intended to). 


	6. Problem Children, HighFlying Ice Cream,

So, yes. My other WIPs are coming along nicely but...aren't done. I know, I know, I'm a bad author who can't keep up her promises. I will attempt it! But, for one of my classes I have to write a 10 pg. sci-fi story that is very incredibly scientific, and I only have 2 pages done. So...If I don't want to utterly fail my classes, I will be working on that.

As an offering to allow me to keep my head intact, I've posted these two chapters. And those fans of FFX who have read my works: this was written first. I'm just apparently obsessed with the concept.

**_

* * *

_**

**_Problem Children, High-Flying Ice Cream, and Grandpa Ray_**

It was a week after the disastrous vacation at the spa and a day less than a week after the eventful poker-wager was fulfilled.

And Stryker could still taste that mutt's breath.

_I **will** get Sonya back,_ he thought to himself irately, munching on one of the woman's blueberry muffins. _I will get her back if it costs me my career and pride._

He just didn't know how.

The fight against Shao Kahn had picked up its pace once more, and the fighters were now plagued with little sleep, quickie meals of coffee and oranges, and pains in the forms of bruises, cuts, burns, broken bones, and punctures. Their easy days were slowly fading from their memories with all of the fighting and lack of personal time.

Then the war took an odd turn.

------

Sub-Zero awoke with a start, knowing instinctively something was wrong. He didn't know what, but something just wasn't right.

He slid out of bed and neatly fixed the sheets, inspecting his room afterwards. Nothing was out of place. He checked outside in the hall–wincing all the while at the rise in temperature–but found no difference. Slowly, he made his way about the base, meeting no one else: everyone had the commonsense to stay in bed sleeping.

Then he heard it. A wail. In Stryker's room.

Sighing and wondering what could possibly be wrong now the ninja knocked on the door. The wailing only increased in volume. He knocked a second time. The wails grew louder and louder. Finally he opened the door and checked inside.

Stryker's room was perfectly normal at first glance (papers, clothing, and little knickknacks littered his floor and desk). Then Sub-Zero took a look at his bed. The covers had been thrown aside to allow Stryker out.

Only, Stryker was nowhere to be seen.

Instead a little boy of four years stood next to the bed, wailing at the top of his lungs. Stryker's clothes pooled around the boy; the pants were too large to stay wrapped around his tiny waist and the shirt was slipping from his shoulders.

Sub-Zero stood in shock, simply watching the boy cry his heart out. Then the child took notice of the man. He stopped crying abruptly, making him hiccup.

The boy's first words made Sub-Zero's blood come to a dead halt.

"Uncle Subby?"

------

"What's wrong, Sub-Zero?" Nightwolf yawned, walking into the med-lab. Kiva trailed behind the man, whining at the interruption to his sleep.

"Stryker's been. . . hexed," Sub-Zero answered hesitantly. At the Indian's questioning glance Sub-Zero led him into a cubicle, where Nightwolf came to a stop.

A boy sat on one of his many medical beds in an oversized blue shirt (one that seemed suspiciously like Stryker's), looking as innocent as a sunny day. He saw Nightwolf and gave a tiny wave. "Morning Uncle Nighty."

Turning his head to Sub-Zero, Nightwolf received a shrug. "I found him in Stryker's room, crying," the ninja explained. "He's taken to calling me. . . Uncle Subby."

"Oooh, doggy!" the boy cried joyfully, sliding off the bed to pet Kiva. Baffled, the wolf stood still, letting the human child stroke him and ignoring the fact that the boy was stroking a little too hard.

"Stryker hates dogs," Nightwolf frowned. "Do you honestly think this could be Stryker?"

"What other explanation do you have?" Sub-Zero retorted. "Kahn came in the middle of the night and kidnapped Stryker but, in the effort to remain subtle, replaced him with a child?"

"True," Nightwolf grimaced. "But this is. . . absurd. How can Stryker be a child? And did he call me 'Uncle _Nighty_'?"

"Nightwolf?" the two adults heard Jax's voice call out falteringly. They looked outside the cubicle and found the Major standing uncomfortably.

"What's wrong, Jax?" Nightwolf asked. "I have a bit of a. . . crisis at the moment."

"I think that will come second after you take a look at this." Jax stepped to the side, revealing a small blonde girl wearing a shirt that was several sizes too large. With a yelp she leaped behind Jax's form, grabbing his hand and holding it close to her.

Staring, Sub-Zero and Nightwolf turned from the boy and to the girl and back again, dread growing. Curious about their silence, Jax went over to them (the girl stayed determinedly behind him) and looked inside the cubicle. He stared at the boy. "Is that. . . Stryker?"

"We think so," Sub-Zero answered. He caught a glimpse of the girl. "Is that Sonya?"

The girl stepped out from behind Jax. "Hi, Uncle Subby, Uncle Nighty" she whispered.

The boy looked up at the girl. "What's _she_ doing here?" he asked the adults.

The girl scowled. "They're my uncles," she said.

The boy frowned back. "No, they're _my_ uncles."

"No, they're mine!"

"No they awren't!"

"Yes they awre!"

"Not!"

"Awre!"

"Not!"

"_Awre_!"

"_Not_!"

"Oh god," Sub-Zero groaned. "Will they ever stop?"

------

Liu, Kitana, Jax, Sub-Zero, Nightwolf, and Rayden all stared as the children ate, munching happily on pancakes, toast, eggs, oranges, cereal, and bacon. They were now clothed in better-fitting outfits, trimmed down by the Thunder God.

Stryker gulped his fifth slice of bacon and said, "May I have a gwass of milk, pwease?"

"How is it that these two eat better than all of us have in the last few weeks?" Liu asked incredulously as Nightwolf got the requested glasses (Sonya had echoed her companion's plea).

"At least we are not children," Kitana told him wisely.

Sonya took her glass of milk and drank deeply, smiling her thanks at Nightwolf. Stryker took one sip of the liquid before spitting it out. "This isn't milk," he said.

The girl took his glass and sipped it. "It's milk," she argued.

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"No-"

"Enough," Liu broke in, cowing them instantly. "Stryker, what's wrong with your milk?"

The boy looked at him dourly. "It's not milk," he mumbled.

Jax thought it through. "Stryker was raised on a farm," he said aloud. "He probably grew up on milk that came straight from the cow, not through pasteurization and everything else the dairies put into the milk."

"It's not milk if it doesn't come wight fwom the cow," Stryker nodded firmly. He pushed the glass of milk away from him and continued eating, undaunted by the 'not milk' substance. Sonya copied him.

"What do you think happened to them, Rayden?" Liu whispered to the god.

Rayden shrugged. "I have no clue. What could anyone gain from this? Even if Shao Kahn was responsible, I could simply take over for all of you until the mess was sorted out."

"A trick from the gods, perhaps?" Sub-Zero suggested.

"Maybe," Rayden tilted his head uncertainly. "We won't know until I make inquiries."

"Slow down, Stryker," Jax scolded as the boy tried gulping his bacon, pancake, and egg in one bite. "You'll choke yourself."

The boy finished chewing, looking at him bewilderedly. "Why do you keep calling me Stwyker, Uncle Jaxy? That's my daddy's name. My name is Kurtis."

The adults looked at one another. From the beginning they had known the Captain as Stryker, not Kurtis or Kurt. The man had made it very clear what the consequences would be if he was referred to by his first name by anyone.

"What would you like us to call you, then?" Kitana asked in the voice adults used when talking to children.

Stryker looked at her as if the answer was obvious. "Kurtis. Or Kurt."

Sonya finished chewing her own meal. "Kurtis sounds wike a _giiirl's_ name," she said.

"No it doesn't!" he snapped hotly.

"Yes it does," she replied, undeterred by his tone. "You don't hear tough guys called 'Kurtis'. They all have big names, wike. . . Bert."

Stryker glared at the girl. "Fine. Call me Kurt."

The adults sighed as one. "They're even worse when they're kids," Rayden griped.

Sonya and Kurt looked at the god. "Don't be mad, Grandpa Ray," they said as one.

All movement in the kitchen stopped. Rayden turned stiffly to the children and asked, "What did you call me?"

"Grandpa Ray, Grandpa Ray," Kurt replied cheerfully.

"Oh, no," Rayden instantly raised his hands and waved them from side to side. "I am not a grandfather."

The two looked at each other, then back at him. The adults could see tears in their eyes and their lower lips trembling. "Y-you d-don't want to b-be our Grandpa Ray?" they sniffled.

"Of course he does," Jax broke in as Liu kicked Rayden in the shin. "Grandpa Ray's just joking. You know how bad he is with that."

They perked up and smiled brightly. Rayden looked at the other adults and saw them grinning as well. "What are you guys so happy about?" he growled.

"Nothing, Grandpa," Nightwolf chuckled.

Rayden scowled. "Don't push it." Suddenly, he felt two thumps on his legs. Looking down, he found Kurt and Sonya attached to his legs, looking up hopefully. He asked reluctantly, "Yes?" Their answer horrified him.

"Piggyback wide!"

------

Three hours and several piggyback rides later Rayden was finally relieved of his duty and found comfort in the couch and a quart of _Mint Chocolate Chip_. He felt empathy for Kitana, or 'Aunt Kitty' as the two children referred to her. She had been given babysitting duty when Sonya had demanded to play dress-up and Kurt was reluctantly pulled along.

_Grandpa Ray_, Rayden poked at his ice cream. _What kind of absurdity is that? I'm not that old. . . . Am I_?

Liu walked in, spotting Rayden on the couch. "How were the piggyback rides?" he asked.

Rayden almost growled at his Champion when he saw sympathy in the man's eyes. "Considering I wasn't the one given the ride, painful," he gave the ice cream one last poke before actually eating it. "I may be a god but even we have backaches."

"If it makes you feel any better, Kitana seems to be faring as well as you had." Liu grimaced at the thought of the two innocently torturing his love. "Last I saw, Sonya had a hold of the mascara and nail polish and was trying to apply it to both Kitana and Stryker–Kurt."

Rayden scowled at the new name. "Why are they calling me _Grandpa_ Ray? I'm not that old. My own children don't have children yet."

"You look that old," Liu told the god. Hearing his dark tone, Rayden tilted his head quizzically. With a sigh, the Champion explained to Rayden, "They've taken to calling me Uncle Louie."

Rayden blinked, then laughed. "Suddenly I feel much better."

Their discussion was interrupted by Kitana coming in and wearily flopping onto the couch next to Rayden. Looking at his quart of ice cream, the princess turned to Liu and demanded, uncharacteristically, "Get me _Rocky Road_. Now."

Before the Champion could leap into action to get her the desired quart, two figures trailed in, one looking far more upset than either Kitana or Rayden. "Grandpa, tell hewr to stop picking on meeee!" Kurt whined.

"Quit being a baby," Sonya mocked.

The two male adults stared. Kurt was fully clothed in a tuxedo, though the coat was obviously stolen from Jax's closet: it was far too big. His tousled hair had been combed back and slicked with gel, making it shiny. Sonya was dressed in a fluffy pink dress, lace, flowery ornaments and all. Her hair was brushed back and held by a pin, with colorful butterfly hair-pieces stuck in her hair. Her make-up was outrageously done, and the lipstick smeared slightly.

Kurt, oblivious to the adults' stares, turned and pushed her. "I'm not a baby," he argued.

She pushed him back. "Don't push girls."

He pushed again. "You awren't the boss of me."

Thus a pushing war began, and it took Liu and Rayden to separate the two; Kitana sat stubbornly on the couch, apparently done being babysitter for the day.

After a tussle with trying to keep the children still, the adults allowed them to sit on their laps, Sonya in Rayden's and Kurt in Liu's. "Let's just hope they behave," Rayden whispered to Liu. The Champion nodded fervently in agreement.

Unfortunately, they didn't behave. Like all children, Sonya and Kurt could only sit still for so long. They first played with their supervisor's clothes and hair, and upon discovering they didn't like that, they settled for watching Looney Tunes on the television, occasionally pushing or poking the other during the commercials. As long as they caused no extreme bodily harm, the adults saw no reason to get off the couch and intervene.

But then Rayden made the mistake of going back to his _Mint Chocolate Chip_.

"I want ice cweam!" they said. Looking at each other, they began chanting, "We want ice cweam, we want ice cweam, we want ice cweam!"

"Look what you've gone and done now," Liu growled at the god.

"Just give them the ice cream," Kitana begged. "Make them stop."

And so the adults carried them (the children sat on the floor and wailed when the adults walked too fast for their four-year-old-sized legs to keep up) to the kitchen and fed them ice cream: _Strawberry_ for Sonya and _Chocolate Chip_ for Stryker.

Any seasoned parent (mortal parent, that is) would have told the three never to feed a mortal child ice cream without an exercise ready for him or her. Too bad the Thunder God, Champion, and Princess didn't have a seasoned parent nearby to tell them that.

The first clue the three received that ice cream equaled a bad plan was when the two grew tired of eating the ice cream. They began lobbing _Chocolate Chip_ and _Strawberry_ around the kitchen, laughing gleefully as the adults ducked and ran for cover. It became even more fun when they discovered white refrigerators, walls, floors, and ceilings made wonderful canvases.

But soon the three adults found a way to thrust them upon two others, and given no ice cream to throw and cause mayhem. So they improvised.

"Who the hell gave these two sugar!" Jax demanded as two hyperactive children raced around him, both trying to catch one another without getting caught themselves.

Liu, from his perch a hundred feet above the training arena where Jax was situated and therefore safe from the two 'monsters,' whistled innocently. Nightwolf, who was in the training arena with the Major (attempting) to take care of the children, frowned at Jax. "Don't swear," he said. "That's bad for them."

Kurt broke away from Jax and climbed onto the table to leap on Nightwolf's back. Sonya raced after him, and Nightwolf shrieked an unmanly shriek and an expletive.

"Don't swear," Jax threw the Indian's words back in his face. "That's bad for them."

------

Looking around the recreation room, Sub-Zero winced. He did not want babysitting duty; that was why he had meditated in his room for longer than he usually did. But the others had barged in four hours after Jax's and Nightwolf's turn and dragged him out of the safety of his room, telling him (quite hysterically) that it was his turn to 'deal with the monsters.'

Did he mention he didn't want babysitting duty?

But as he looked inside the room, he could hear only silence and peace. Stepping further, the ninja wondered if this was a trick created by the devious minds of two pint-sized rascals.

He found them as he came to stand beside the couch. They were sleeping contentedly on the couch. Their feet, when lying flat out, barely skimmed each other. They had the appearance of the two most perfect angels, not the 'monsters' that Jax, Liu, Kitana, Rayden, and Nightwolf had dealt with.

Relieved, Sub-Zero took the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over their forms, praying to whatever god was listening that they stayed asleep.

He was rewarded with their continued silence and stillness. Considering his options, Sub-Zero sat cross-legged and placed his hands on his knees, index finger to thumb.

He meditated for a solid two hours before Kurt stirred. "Uncle Subby?" he yawned, rubbing his eyes.

Sub-Zero opened his own eyes. "Yes?"

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I am meditating."

"Why?"

"Because I must concentrate."

"Why?"

"Because I will lose control of my power if I don't."

"Why?"

Sub-Zero frowned at the boy. "Stop doing that."

"Why?"

"I said stop it."

"Why?"

"Stop it!"

Flinching at the loud tone the ninja used, Kurt blinked twice and slid to the floor beside the man. "Awre you mad at me?"

Sub-Zero sighed. "No, Kurt, I'm not."

"Why?" Sonya woke up and sat next to Kurt. "All the other gwown-ups got mad at us."

"They aren't mad at you. Adults–grown-ups–sometimes go a little. . . crazy. That's all."

Kurt and Sonya tilted their heads. "So that's why you med-e-tait?" Kurt asked again.

"Yes, that's why. To keep my sanity." _Who says white lies are a bad thing?_

The two children exchanged looks, then settled on the floor like Sub-Zero, hands on their knees. "Now what?" Sonya prodded.

When the other Defenders and their Protector came in to check on Sub-Zero (or drag his carcass out of the room) they found the ninja and two children meditating peacefully.

"Anyone else feel like hitting Sub-Zero?" Jax inquired with a disgusted face.


	7. Little Brother, Solutions, and No More I

And now the second part of my peace offering. Enjoy.

* * *

**_Little Brother, Solutions, and. . . No More Ice Cream?_**

Nightwolf groaned, resting his head against the cool metal of his worktable. Paper lay strewn about his desk, computations and scientific hypotheses scrolled down the computer screen faster than the eye could read, and the wastebasket to his left was stuffed with crinkled paper and broken pencil-halves.

"Why are Stryker and Sonya children?" he moaned to himself, trying to reorganize his thoughts. Sometimes he hated being the scientist of the group–they always expected him to come up with a solution to their problems.

On the other hand, he no longer had to endure babysitting duty. That was a big plus.

Nightwolf leaned in his chair, taking one of Sonya's muffins. Despite of the fact that the kitchen was loaded with the baked goods, no one really had the time to spare a bite. As far as he knew, only Stryker and Sonya managed to snag a muffin the last week. Nightwolf tore a piece off and fed it to Kiva before biting into the rest, savoring the blueberry taste.

_Maybe it was something they ate,_ Nightwolf thought. He scribbled a sentence on the paper, then froze. He looked at the muffin and Kiva, thinking his previous idea through.

"Crap."

------

"I don't care if Nightwolf is researching," Jax snapped at Liu and Kitana. "We all agreed to equal turns babysitting Stryker and Sonya. It isn't _equal_ if one of us is taken out of the loop!"

Sub-Zero sighed as he followed them, wondering once again why he was stuck in the middle of all the mayhem and ruckus. _Just_ because he had found a way to keep them silent, he was shunned by the others. . . . Then he heard a cry.

"Did you guys hear that?" he said, then repeated it louder to drown out their arguments.

The fighters turned to the ninja. "Hear what?" Kitana questioned, then stopped as the cry came again, accompanied by a weak howl.

They followed the noise to the med-lab, dread filling them with every step. When they reached the med-lab they found a baby draped with Nightwolf's clothes sitting on a chair and a tiny black fur-ball trying to reach the aforementioned baby. Hearing their entrance, the pup turned and growled, baring its tiny teeth.

"That would be cute, if it didn't mean more trouble for us," Jax groaned. The baby did not stop crying.

Stepping forward cautiously, Liu offered his hand to the wolf-pup. "Take it easy, now," he said soothingly. "We're here to help you, not hurt you."

The wolf stopped growling, tilting its head and considering the big human. The baby's cries got louder, causing the pup to turn and try jumping onto the chair again. The pup sadly did not make it halfway before falling to the ground again.

Warily, Liu came forward and picked the baby up, trying to make soothing noises. Turning to the other three, he said with a heavy sigh, "Get Rayden. We're going to need all the help we can— **_OW_**!"

Small though they were, sharp teeth are still sharp teeth against the buttocks of a human.

------

Rayden inspected Nightwolf's workstation carefully, trying to sort everything out. With Nightwolf altered into the state of a one-year old, he and the rest of the Defenders had to do without the Indian's scientific mind.

Everything was chaotic, quite unlike the Indian preferred it. Notes and a pencil lay on the metal desk, along with a partly-eaten muffin. He picked it up and looked it over. Apparently Nightwolf had only gotten a chance to take one bite before being changed. A pity.

Rayden bit into the muffin and pondered while he chewed. A hastily scrabbled note caught Rayden's eye as he swallowed.

_Digested food, perhaps?_

_What is that supposed. . . to. . . mean. . .?_ Rayden looked at the muffin, then groaned.

"Dammit."

------

"He's so _cuuuute_," Sonya cooed over Baby-Nightwolf.

Kurt tried to stay aloof—girls were full of cooties and anything they thought was cute wasn't—but it was hard. The baby _did_ look sorta cute. "You'we a _gwirl_, of couwse you think he's cute," he replied.

Sticking out her tongue, Sonya tickled the baby's tummy. The baby gurgled, grabbing at the finger. She giggled. "He's our wittle bwother now," she said.

Kurt bent down and picked up the pup, doing the best he could to keep the squirming handful in his arms. "Doggies awre better than babies," he said.

"No they awren't," Sonya retorted. "Doggies swobber."

"So do babies."

"No they don't!"

"Yes they do!"

"Don't!"

"Do!"

"_Don't_!"

"_Do_!"

"Maybe it was a good thing Nightwolf was turned into a baby," Jax shrugged to the others. "It gives Sonya and Kurt a distraction from us."

"Don't jinx it!" Liu hissed.

"Too late," Kitana informed him as they children turned to the adults.

"Can we feed Wittle Bwother ice cweam?" Sonya asked.

"No," Liu shook his head. "Babies don't eat ice cream."

"Can we feed Puppy ice cweam?" Kurt asked.

"Wolves don't eat ice cream either," Sub-Zero answered.

"Puppy isn't a woof," Kurt shook his head fervently. "Puppy is a doggy."

"Let him believe what he will," Jax muttered from the corner of his mouth before anyone could argue.

"Can we have ice cweam?" Sonya and Kurt asked together, smiles bright and hopeful.

The adults looked at each other uneasily. "Remember last time you ate ice cream?" Liu said gravely. "You two were very, _very_ bad. We don't want that to happen again."

"We won't!" they chirruped. "We pwomise!"

Trading looks, Kitana finally said, "If they do become hyperactive, we can always push them upon Rayden."

Agreeing that it was the best idea all day, the adults went to the freezer. The two children followed them hopefully.

Those hopes were dashed, however, when they discovered the freezer empty of the all-important substance known as ice cream.

"Nooo!" the two children wailed, then sat on the floor and cried, flailing limbs and letting out tears. Puppy-Kiva whined and scampered away to Baby-Nightwolf, who joined in the dissatisfied wails.

"_What's going on here_!" a voice yelled, thunder clapping with the angry tone.

Turning, the adults gaped and groaned as one.

Rayden was now a teenager wearing a black leather jacket taken right out of a 60's movie. Blue pants with several pockets and more holes than Swiss cheese accompanied the coat. His hair was shorn to a short length, looking much more like Thunder's hairstyle than his own. He no longer wore his hat, so they could now see his pupil-less eyes that sparked wildly with electricity.

"Rayden?" Liu asked woefully. No one seemed to notice that Kurt, Sonya, and Baby-Nightwolf had not stopped crying.

"We want ice cweam! We want ice cweam! We want ice cweam!"

"Waaaaaa!"

The former adult Thunder God glared at the mortals. "Anyone going to stop their crying?" he asked acerbically.

It took several minutes to calm the three children down and find a more suitable thing for Kiva to chew—he had taken to biting Liu again—before they could settle themselves into seats. By then Rayden had sobered and his temper merely simmered.

"Sorry for the rudeness," he sighed. "I was taken by surprise and. . . I don't like this."

"What happened?" Kitana asked.

"We want ice cweam!"

"Nightwolf found out why we've been sent back in age, right before he realized he had made the same mistake, undoubtedly." Rayden showed them the twice-bitten muffin. "I ate the muffin as well, and I was changed quite rapidly. Whatever was put into this muffin changed our ages. We find out what it is, we can make an antidote."

Sub-Zero looked at the children. "Do you remember eating muffins?"

The two shook their heads solemnly. "I want ice cweam," Kurt moped.

"Me too," Sonya sniffed.

Liu looked at Rayden. "Why do you remember and they don't?"

"I'm a god, Liu," the Protector snorted. "Whether I'm put back thirty or thirty hundred years I'll still be a god. My memories can't be affected except by another deity's direct power. Of course, we won't be able to truly test that theory since Nightwolf is. . . unable to speak," he looked at the baby, who seemed curious about the newcomer and gurgled.

"So, what do we do?" Jax asked. "How can we make the antidote?"

Rayden scratched the back of his head. "Er, well, I sped things up in that department."

The adults frowned. "How?" Liu asked warily.

"We want ice cweam!"

"I got someone up in the Heavens to make a batch," Rayden explained. From their suspicious looks, he added grouchily, "Stryker, Sonya, and Nightwolf don't have a spouse and children to return home to. I do. And I can't go back home looking like this and expect to keep my dignity."

Looking at each other, they came to a silent agreement. Before Rayden knew it, Jax had a camera in hand and the flash had gone off.

"What was that for?" Rayden screeched.

"Memories," Jax answered before taking another.

"Stop that!"

_FLASH!_

"Aw, come on, Ray," Liu smirked. "Don't you want your wife to see your cuter side?"

"No, now stop it!"

_FLASH!_

"Grandpa Ray is wooking pwetty mad," Sonya whispered to Kurt.

"He don't look vewy Grandpa-ish no more," Kurt whispered back. "He wooks mowre wike, I dunno. . . Cousin Ray. And this isn't getting me ice cweam."

Sonya brightened. "Wet's make owrsewves ice cweam!"

"But, the gwown-ups will get mad—" Kurt looked at the adults again, whom were all fighting over the camera. "Never mind. Wet's go."

The two children walked away from the arguing adults, bringing Baby-Nightwolf with them. Kiva, never wanting to be far from his human, followed them with tiny yips and yaps.

Not one of the grown-ups noticed their disappearance until they needed the children to tell Grandpa Ray he was a 'cute boy.'

Then all hell broke loose.

After an hour of searching for the errant children they found them in the storage room. They had erected an odd tent, and several boxes had been opened. Inside the tent they found the children making a complete mess. Baby-Nightwolf and Puppy-Kiva didn't mind; the former napped contentedly and the latter lapped up the mess.

"What are you doing?" Liu demanded bewilderedly.

"Making ice cweam," Kurt replied, but from his saddened look they could tell he wasn't happy about it in the least. "But it's not wowrking."

The adults looked. There were only three recognizable ingredients: whipped cream, milk, and ice. The substance was also brown in color; from the canisters labeled 'Ginger' they assumed that was it.

"It don't taste wike _Stwawbewry_ or _Chocowate Chip_," Sonya sighed, then added happily, "Puppy wikes it, though."

"I'm sure he does," Sub-Zero winced at the pup, who continued to lap at the mess.

"I'm not telling Nightwolf the reason why Kiva has food poisoning," Jax said firmly.

"You two get out of there," Rayden ordered, pushing them gently out when they complied. Scooting in, Rayden took hold of Baby-Nightwolf and began backing out. Puppy-Kiva, not aware of what the deity was doing to his human, fell back on his tried-true method of defense–biting the rear end.

"**_OWWW!_**"

------

Stryker sat at the table, staring bewilderedly at his friends. Sonya sat beside him, just as befuddled. "So, we've been. . . children, for the past three days so?" Stryker asked. Disbelief lined his tone.

The group nodded.

"Because of my. . . muffins?" Sonya frowned.

They nodded once more.

The two shared a knowing look, _They've been driven to the edge of insanity._

"It's true!" Liu said fiercely, noticing their looks. "You guys were children for the last week or so and we just gave you the antidote an hour ago! Apparently some god had bewitched one of the ingredients Sonya used while making the muffins as a joke because he thought Rayden was going to be taking them to his family!"

"Right, Liu," Stryker nodded. He said, in a soothing tone one used for someone ready to commit suicide, "we believe you. It's not an issue of belief and trust. . . Okay, so it's an issue of belief and trust, but come on. Four year olds? Because of some muffins?"

"It's true," Nightwolf told them. "I ate a piece of the muffin, and then I blacked out."

"You blacked out, Nightwolf," Sonya argued. "You don't know that you were changed into a child."

"And our words mean nothing?" Sub-Zero growled.

"Everyone, be calm," Rayden's voice broke the increasingly angry atmosphere. "We won't solve this by yelling."

"Rayden, what the hell did you do to your hair?" Stryker's jaw dropped. Sonya followed suit a moment later and Nightwolf was equally surprised.

Rayden was now garmented in his usual white suit and blue vest, but his hair had remained the cut length of his youth. "I felt it was time for a change," he said lightly. "Plus, it makes me look younger."

"You're getting a little too excited over this Grandpa Ray thing, Rayden," Jax retorted.

"'Grandpa Ray'?" Sonya and Stryker questioned together. Stryker went on to say, "Rayden's not at that age to be a grandfather."

"Thank you!" Rayden nodded cheerfully.

"I mean, you're too old to be a grandfather."

"He should've stopped there," Liu sighed for his friend.

"What?" Stryker asked honestly, seeing the God of Thunder's face grow stormy and lightning sparking from his eyes more frequently. "What did I say?"

"Just walk away, Stryker," Sub-Zero advised his friend quietly. "Get up from the table and move away before Rayden electrocutes you."

Growing even more confused, Stryker did as Sub-Zero suggested, desiring ice cream. Knowing this was what the man was going for, Jax told him, "We're out of ice cream, Kurt."

The Captain twirled, eyes ablaze. "Don't call me that!"

The group winced as one except Rayden, who still fumed over Stryker's earlier comment. "Sorry," Kitana told him. "It's just, the younger you insisted we call you by your first name."

Eyes still burning, Stryker turned back to the freezer. Finding Jax's statement true, he closed the door calmly, walked over to the cabinet on the other side, opened it, and pulled out a carton of _Chocolate Fudge_. The burning flames left his eyes.

"What in the world was _that_ doing in there?" Nightwolf asked bewilderedly.

Stryker looked up. "It's my secret stash in case there wasn't any ice cream left."

"How come you didn't tell us about it?" Liu frowned.

The ice cream-eating man rolled his eyes. "If I told you about it, then it wouldn't be a_ secret_ stash, now would it? Besides, you guys would've stolen it if you had known, and I couldn't risk it. It's every man for himself when it comes to ice cream in this base."

Sonya had her eyes back on Rayden. "You should have left it a little longer," she said. "Make it into a Mohawk or something."

The mortals had to duck when lightning crashed into the room. When they looked back up, the god was gone.

"Tsh," Stryker snorted. "Way to insult Rayden, Sonya." He ate a scoop of ice cream.

* * *

And I swear! I swear! I will update N3iT and CCP before I update this one again (unless of course I get far more feedback for this one than the others combined--highly unlikely) though you may still have to wait til the last week of February for it due to a combination of homework and a job--yes, you read that right, I HAVE A JOB (this is my first actual joband I need to keep it, in case you were wondering why I needed to emphasize that)!


	8. Villains, Ice Cream in Danger, and Catat

The news clips usage is something I was inspired by from a fanfic of Justice League, viewable at under comics, DC superheroes, called 'Working Girls,' by _Artemis1088_, who also was inspired by the Oreo event sometime back in May 2003. And yes, I know Chris Casamassa was the actor who played Scorpion in MK: Conquest. That was the idea.

**_

* * *

_****_Villains, Ice Cream in Danger, and Catatonia_**

**Baskin Robbins Out of Business?  
**by Chris Casamassa, _New York Times_ reporter

Shocking everyone today, Baskin Robbins has declared themselves bankrupt. An ongoing investigation is looking into the mysterious problem that has arisen for the company. They discovered their financial quandary just a month prior, resulting in several lay-offs and a sharp rise in unemployment. The chairman has declared the majority of the stores will be closing because of the bankruptcy. It is not certain yet what will become of this famous ice cream chain, but rumor has it Ben & Jerry's, Baskin Robbins' primary competitor for sales, is considering about buying the conglomerate . . .

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Noooooooooooo!"

The doors to the rec room flew open as Liu, Stryker, Nightwolf, Sonya, and Jax rushed in, their assorted weaponry out and ready to be unleashed. Taking in the scene before them, they raised a brow and simply stared.

Kitana and Sub-Zero, normally the calmest of the group, were sitting on the couch nearly in tears and trembling. Newspaper clippings lay strewn on the coffee table before them, the Baskin Robbins logo blaring in black and white.

"'Baskin Robbins Out of Business'?" Stryker read, raising his other brow. "Oh. I knew there was a reason why I didn't want to buy the paper this morning."

"No more Baskin Robbins?" Sonya frowned. "That's wrong. That is just plain wrong."

"Hey, that means more Ben & Jerry's around here," Jax started to grin, but upon receiving glares from around the room he backed away.

"This is most upsetting," Kitana sniffed. "Baskin Robbins is the best thing I have found on Earth Realm."

Liu almost asked, _Better than me?_ when he thought better of it. The others would never let him sleep if he blurted _that_ out.

"I will have to destroy my passport, now that there is no reason to be in the States," Sub-Zero whimpered.

The calmer five of the group looked at each other, then Stryker sighed. "Why don't you two go and stock up on some ice cream, eh?" he asked, digging through his wallet. "I'm sure Robbins will have a sale going on, so you can buy two for one."

He held a hundred dollars out, but shrieked when the two snatched his wallet. "Five hundred fifty dollars in here, and you try to give us a hundred?" Kitana eyed him suspiciously.

The others stared. "Since when did you get a pay-raise?" Jax demanded.

"Since I wound up having grocery duty," he snapped back.

The group paused in thought, then said slowly, "Oh yeah." Kitana and Sub-Zero refused to give him back his wallet, however.

"We'll give you the change," Sub-Zero muttered as he and the princess walked away to the chamber that housed the Jets.

"What change! You'll buy out the store!"

"I'll go with them," Sonya told him with a heavy sigh. "Maybe I can convince them to buy some _World Class Chocolate_."

"NO!"

Stryker watched them as the three disappeared behind the door, then turned to his male companions. "They took my money," he sniffled. "Those robbers."

"Look on the bright side," Nightwolf tried to soothe him. "You still have a hundred."

Sonya raced in and grabbed the wad of money in Stryker's hand. "Gas money!" she yelled over her shoulder.

Stryker promptly sat on the floor and cried.

------

"I can't believe how crowded it is out here," Sonya whistled at the crowd outside the first Baskin Robbins store in southern California.

The two beside her didn't hear. They were busy mapping out their course of action. Normal people would have been daunted by the number of people making up the mob outside the door, ready to step on feet and shove bodies out of their way. Unfortunately for the uninformed mob, Sub-Zero and Kitana were far from normal people.

The doors opened, allowing the people to rush inside. Sonya yelped and jumped out of the way as the people behind her nearly trampled over her. She didn't see where Sub-Zero and Kitana sped off to. Screams from inside made her wary.

"Hands off that _Chocolate_!"

"It's mine!"

"There's no more _Cherries Jubilee_!"

"Noooo!"

And Sonya could distinctly hear Kitana's voice:

"The _Rocky Road_ is mine! I am the Princess of Edenia, I command you, LET IT GO!"

Peeking inside, Sonya turned pale. At some point in the stampede Sub-Zero had gotten impatient: icy floors and frozen people leading to the _Very Berry Strawberry_ argued that much.

"It's World War III in there. I think I'll be safer if I wait out here. I can live with the poor excuse for _Chocolate_ Ben & Jerry's make."

------

"And he's been like this since Sonya took off with his money?" Rayden asked, snapping his fingers in front of the glazed eyes of the catatonic Stryker.

"I think it's shock," Nightwolf shrugged. "He should get better when he's paid back."

Looking at the Indian skeptically, Rayden summoned a wad of hundred bills into his hand and waved it in front of the man's face.

No reaction.

"Maybe it was the sentimental value," Jax suggested. "My grand-mama has a dollar bill she never gets rid of because it was the first present Granddad ever gave her."

"I don't think we'll be getting it back anytime soon if Sub-Zero, Kitana, and Sonya have their way with his money," Liu pointed out.

Stryker suddenly let out an ear-shattering wail, then went back to being silent.

"He does that when you mention their names," Nightwolf winced.  
"Whose?" Rayden asked. "Sub-Zero's, Sonya's, and Kitana's?"

The same wail assaulted their eardrums, then the room returned to silence.

"That would be a yes," Jax rubbed his ears.

"What do we do?" Liu asked Nightwolf. "How do doctors cure this?"

"We don't," the Indian replied. "We do therapy, and if that doesn't work we stick them in a cell and hope they don't bruise against the padding from their thrashing."

They looked at Stryker. He continued to stare at the wall.

"I don't think that'll be too much of a problem," Rayden said dryly. "In any case, we can't leave him like this. He's the only one who knows how to use that baton without dropping it on his own foot, and that's the only thing we have to close the portals."

Nightwolf, Jax, and Liu winced; had the other three been there, they would have done the same. Strange things occurred when someone besides Stryker handled the baton, and they were all quick to agree that Stryker had somehow jinxed the nightstick to ensure the weapon would never be properly used by anyone else.

"Maybe we should try and give him compensation," Liu suggested. "You know, tickets to the New York Rangers game, _Vanilla_ ice cream. . . what else?"

They looked at him. He continued to stare at the wall.

"How about we hypnotize him?" Jax asked. As the other three looked at him the Major reconsidered his suggestion. "Never mind."

"I thought as much." Rayden cocked his head. "Well, we could always threaten his remaining money."

They watched Stryker with anticipation. They were not rewarded.

"How about threatening his room?" Nightwolf thought aloud. "He's so obsessed with keeping it unclean, maybe if we clean it he'll snap out of it."

No mention of cleaning his room shook Stryker out of his catatonia.

"We could always carry him to his mother," Jax said.

A shudder went through Stryker as he swayed, then collapsed on his back, eyes closed.

Nightwolf glared at the Major. "You killed him. That's much better."

Rayden sighed. "I'm going to have to run the ad to hire a new Defender again. Dammit. Three times in one tournament, that has to be a record."

------

Sonya sulked outside the shop, wondering how long it could take to clean out a store.

From her watch, it apparently took longer than two hours. And from the sounds within the store, the battle for ice cream still waged on in full force.

A loud rattling noise attracted her attention, and she could see a dark shadow fleeing from the trash cans it had knocked over. Curiosity and her duty as a Special Forces agent (along with boredom) led her to investigate.

The dark shadow snuck into a doorway on the other side of the corner, carelessly leaving the door open. Tiptoeing carefully, she leaned against the wall and peered into the crack.

"This is a stupid plan," one man complained. "The world is not going to crumble just because an ice cream store falls apart!"

"Shuddap!" a male, Australian voice growled the command, one that Sonya recognized all too well. "We're gettin' paid big bucks fer this."

"Big bucks don't matter much when the coppers link the company to BR's bankruptcy," a third voice muttered, this time feminine but with a hint of an Aussie accent as well, just not as strong as the man's.

Sonya sucked in a breath. The bankruptcy wasn't from a normal cause; this group had sabotaged Baskin Robbins!

At any normal time, she would have barged in and confronted the criminals. But this was no normal time. She had a smarter idea. In fact, it was brilliant, if she said so herself.

Which she did.

Of course, it was also cruel and unusual punishment. But that was okay. They were criminals, and criminals knew what they were getting into.

So she went back to the entrance and braved the store, finding Kitana and Sub-Zero plotting where else to hit. People behind Kitana were sitting on the floor groaning and rubbing their heads; obviously they had been rapped by one of her fans. Sub-Zero's victims were no better off; they were frozen in blocks of ice.

The cashiers–mostly teenagers working for minimum wage and no hazard pay–were huddling in fright behind their counters, praying that the insane people went to Number 15. Number 15 didn't know this, of course. Actually, he didn't know anything. He sat behind his counter with his headphones on, listening to punk rock music with his eyes closed and doodling on his pad that was supposed to be his math homework–he had to keep up his D average grade in order to get his parents to pay for community college admission and maybe a new car.

Sonya went up to her two comrades, making sure to avoid patches of ice and the pit holes where Kitana's fans had dug into the floor. "Um, Kit, Sub?" she tried quietly.

The two turned and glared. "We're not wasting money on _World Class_," Sub-Zero warned grouchily.

"If you would listen to me, you may not have to waste money at all on close-out sales," Sonya snapped back. She informed them of what she knew, making sure to stress the fact that Baskin Robbins would climb out of bankruptcy if they brought down the criminals.

Well, after that revelation, Sub-Zero's and Kitana's outlook changed drastically. They no longer wanted ice cream.

They wanted blood.

Sonya ran in order to keep up with their pace to the back storage room, but when Kitana split the metal door down the middle without missing a step she decided to hang back a bit.

Cries of dismay and confusion followed as the criminals were caught off-guard by the intrusion. Sonya counted seven bodies that included her two friends as they ran out of the storage, and she pursued them. Sub-Zero managed to take a leaping jump and get ahead of the criminals, blocking the doorway. Kitana kept the rear protected, and the criminals could not break away to the sides as the civilians filled every inch of escape.

Seeing her chance, Sonya yelled, "Those five tried to close Baskin Robbins by sabotaging their corporation! They're responsible for the lay-offs and the closures!"

The civilians gasped as one, taking in the five. Two of them Sonya had recognized: one was Kano, her nemesis; the other was Tanya, the former Edenian ambassador's daughter. The other three she didn't pay much attention to; Kano and Tanya were the bigger fishes to fry.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Tanya hissed to Kano.

"What're they gonna do about it?" Kano snapped back. "They're a bunch of civvies, we can take 'em."

------

**Baskin Robbins _Not_ Out of Business!**

by Chris Casamassa, _New York Times_ reporter

At two fifteen yesterday afternoon in the first-ever Baskin Robbins store, five criminals were put under citizen arrest after being discovered in the back storage.

They were pilfering the supply of ice cream and ruining the products, but three unknown persons found the five and chased them out, herding them into the ice cream-crazed crowd, where they were quickly subdued until the arrival of police.

The names of the five criminals have not been released as of yet, however police have assured the country that "they will not escape punishment for their most terrible deed."

To add to the infamy of the crime, it was discovered that the five criminals were under the employment of Ben & Jerry's to sabotage the competitive corporation and make them the leading ice cream company in America and several other countries . . .

"And that is that," Sonya grinned. "Kano is _finally_ in jail, Baskin Robbins is saved, and Sub-Zero and Kitana have their ice cream."

The group was seated in the rec room celebrating Baskin Robbins' recovery and the jailing of Kano and Tanya. Ice cream covered the entire surface of the coffee table, victims of the group's appetite.

Well, all of the group except one person. No matter what they did, none of them were able to wake Stryker up from his catatonia.

"I feel guilty," Liu said, looking at the ice cream they had yet to eat. "We're in here celebrating, but Stryker is still catatonic."

"You shouldn't have stolen that hundred dollars," Jax frowned at Sonya. "He was fine before you did that."

"Well, if your company hadn't sabotaged Baskin Robbins, we wouldn't have stolen the money," Sonya retorted.

Jax snorted before going back to his _Cherry Garcia_. In spite of all that had happened, Jax was still a dedicated Ben & Jerry's customer.

"Play nice, you two," Rayden told them, enjoying his _Chocolate Mint_ thoroughly. "Now is a time for family and friends, not disgruntlement."

The door opened and Stryker came in, glaring at Sub-Zero, Kitana, and Sonya when he came to the couch. "Thieves!" he accused.

"You're awake," Nightwolf tried to distract him.

Stryker snarled at him before turning his attention to the other three. "You stole my money and all three Jets! You just _took_ everything without any consideration for me!"

"We apologize," Kitana said, the spitting image of remorse. "Our behavior was dreadful. What we did was wrong."

"It wasn't wrong, it was downright sinful!" Stryker fished in his pockets and took out a slip of paper. "I had that money saved for a brand new engine part for my Camaro that needed to be picked up today! And now my hopes have been crushed, crushed by you three!" He raised his index finger and pointed at the three he accused earlier.

"Okay, Stryker, stop being so melodramatic," Liu told him. "We'll give you your money back so you can go out and buy it–"

"The money is only part of the problem!" Stryker yelled. "When you three took off, you took off in the three Jets, the _only_ three Jets! Without those Jets, I couldn't go out and buy my part, and the last part was sold three hours ago!"

"Stryker, they'll have more than just one of the parts," Sonya began but was cut off.

"No, they don't! It was the very last product of its make, and the part is no longer in circulation because the company went out of business!"

Now the group were beginning to worry. "But can't you go to another business and buy it there?" Jax asked.

"It was specially made by that company, Jax! That means no other company makes it, and that means no other company will _ever_ make it! And now I've lost it, thanks to you thieves!"

The room was silenced. Rayden tried his hand at making things better. "Ice cream?"

* * *

I don't have much against Ben & Jerry's, really I don't. I just prefer Baskin Robbins. Because, really, BR _is_ the best. 


	9. Viva Las Vegas, Ice Cream Cures All Woes

I'm freshly nineteen, and rather naive about the "adult world." I'm rather clueless about marriages, etc, plus I don't live in Nevada. Yes, I was (and am) a sheltered, deprived child. The only thing that I'm relatively well-versed in is Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, of which I derived a character from; by the bye, I don't own HGTTG, that honor belongs to Douglas Adams (may he rest in peace)._**

* * *

**_

_**Viva Las Vegas, Ice Cream Cures All Woes, and Marriages**_

"Las Vegas, baby, yeah!" Stryker cried, looking around at the flashing lights as the group drove around the Nevada city.

"Stryker, that's the seventeenth time you said that," Sonya groaned. "Shut up already."

"You've kept count?" Liu muttered.

"Las Vegas, baby, yeah!"

"Stryker, if you don't shut up, I'll throw you out of the car," Jax growled over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the road as he was driving.

"Las Vegas, ba- argh!" Stryker let out a strangled cry as ice formed over his lips.

"Thank you!" the other five cried to Sub-Zero.

"Don't try to talk," Sub-Zero advised Stryker dryly. "It won't hurt as much then."

The reply was gibberish, but from Stryker's look of pain they could tell he wouldn't be bothering them again.

"I can't believe we managed to talk Rayden into letting us go to Las Vegas," Sonya stretched her arms out. "But I'm sure glad we did it."

"I just hope Rayden remembers to take good care of Kiva," Nightwolf frowned. "It won't do for me to go on this trip and have it be my last."

"I'm sure Kiva will be fine, Nightwolf," Kitana told him.

Stryker snorted, then winced.

The convertible they were riding in had only meant to carry six people–three in the backseat and three in the front–but they had managed to fit four in the back thanks to Kitana's and Liu's slimmer sizes. They were heading to their hotel to check in, then they were off for a night of gambling and drinking.

They reached the hotel and Jax parked the car, then they went up to the lobby. The woman at the counter looked up and smiled as she asked, "And how may I help you tonight?"

"Briggs party, four rooms," Jax told her.

She gave him the keys, looking over his shoulder at the sight of Stryker and his iced mouth. "Are you alright, sir?" she asked worriedly.

"Don't worry about him," Nightwolf assured her. "He just didn't take our advice, and had his mouth trapped."

She was in no way assured, but as long as they didn't trouble the other customers. . . .

Reaching their floor, Rooms 666A, 666B, 666C, and 666D, the group looked around. "Who's sleeping with who?" Liu asked.

Stryker made a noise, then groaned.

"Maybe you should freeze Stryker's mouth more often, Sub-Zero," Liu wrinkled his nose at the man. "Less remarks come from him that way."

"It's a tempting thought," Sub-Zero admitted.

"Where'd Kit and Sonya go?" Jax asked, bringing their attention to their more immediate problem than Stryker's dirty thoughts.

"In here!" Sonya yelled out, and the men came into 666B.

It was the largest of the four rooms, with a full bath and two queen-sized beds. Kitana was already unloading one of her bags.

"This is ours," Sonya told them.

"No way!" the men cried except for Stryker, who settled for pounding on the door frame.

"Hey, it was you guys who decided to waste time and bicker about Stryker's innuendos," Sonya shrugged. "Kit and I just took advantage of your distracted states and took the best room."

"Fine," Nightwolf frowned. He went next door and shrugged. "This will do for me."

"I'm rooming with you," Jax told him hastily.

"Sharing?" Liu asked Sub-Zero. The ninja quickly nodded and together they left for the room across the hall.

Breaking off the patch of ice over his lips, Stryker yelled, "Yeah, well, no one likes any of you either!" He went to the remaining room and shut it. Turning, he raised his brows.

The women had gotten the biggest room, but he had also gotten a fair deal. The bed was king-sized, there was a shower (thank God for that, he thought to himself), and the view had to be the best in the hotel: he could see the entire south side of the city with the full moon hanging over the sky.

Sighing, he went to the bed, kicked off his shoes, ordered _NY French Vanilla_ from room service to cure his woes, and used the best thing in the room: the 70" wide-screen television, prepped and waiting for a New York Rangers hockey game.

------

Three hours later everyone had settled in and started touring the casinos, looking for their best opportunities.

Three hours and five minutes after settling in, they all lost each other in the crowd.

"I can't believe this," Stryker rolled his eyes as he reached the bar. "Adults that have stayed together while in foreign Realms more times than I can count on seven hands, and we lose each other in our own Realm in less than a quarter-hour."

An hour passed with him at the bar, drinking some beer and looking around the room at the women. Just as he began to gather his courage to talk to one of the women sitting at the bar with him (the beer finally began to affect his judgment and his pride) someone began to lean heavily on his back. Turning, he found himself face to face with a drunken Sonya.

"You alright?" he asked drowsily.

She slumped into a chair and laughed. "Course I'm alright," she told him. She thumped a fist on the counter and ordered the bartender to get her a beer, meanwhile taking Stryker's own and drinking it.

"That's mine," he grumbled.

"Didn't see your name on it," she slurred.

The bartender came with the other beer and Stryker stole that one, taking a long swig. "So, where'd you guys run off to?" he asked.

"Dunno 'bout the others," she told him. "But I found a nice little bar on the other side of the street and had a time there."

He blinked, then shrugged. At least she had a fun time. "That's good, I suppose," he said. "So you don't know where the others are?"

"What'd I just say?" Sonya snapped.

"Um... I dunno. Can't remember."

"Well, I said... Um, what _did_ I say?"

"If I remembered, I woulda told you the first time," Stryker retorted, then paused. "Wait, did you ask me before if I remembered what you said?"

"Maybe?"

"Huh." Stryker looked at the beer. "I think I should stop drinking. I can't remember what I was gonna do before you came."

"I think we were gonna have fun!" Sonya exclaimed, clapping him heavily on the back. "C'mon, I say we go out and party!"

Something in the back of his mind told Stryker that nothing good could come of it, but he shrugged it aside and agreed. So they got up, exited the casino, and wandered down the street.

And that was how they came to the chapel. Well, there was much car-swerving, one-finger salutes, and furiously yelled swears along the way, but in a nutshell they safely stumbled to the chapel after navigating through a very busy McDonalds on a whim.

"That's pretty," Sonya told him, hanging on to him by wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Don't you think it's pretty?"

"Men don't use the word pretty," Stryker retorted. "Men use the word... um, handsome?"

She chuckled and playfully slapped him, her drunken state weakening her so that her arm felt like jelly. "If you say so. Hey, let's look inside!"

The two fumbled in, and while Sonya marveled at the decor Stryker did his best to be her support. "It is pretty," she said. "I want to get married in a chapel like this."

"I guess it's nice," he agreed. "Nothin' like the church back home, but it's comparable."

"I wanna get married," Sonya sniffled. "I wanna have kids and grow old with a guy."

"You will," Stryker said. "Just maybe not now, not with Kahn doing his bad-guy deed."

"I'll never be married," tears started down her cheeks.

"Hey, don't cry," Stryker panicked, wiping them away for her. "You'll get married one day, and you'll have the bestest marriage ever."

"Is bestest even a word?" she frowned, temporarily distracted from her woes.

"I dunno."

"Well, even if it is, I still won't get married." She went over to a chair and flopped into it, looking downcast. "All the guys I date wind up either dead or traitors."

Knowing very well Jax would snap any person who caused his partner distress in half like a twig, Stryker searched his brain for a solution, even if it did come from a drunken mind.

Then he had an inspiration.

"I'll marry you!" When he had her attention, he went on, "I won't be a traitor, I won't wind up dead . . . I hope . . . and you'll be married in a chapel like this because we'll be married right here! It's the perfect idea!"

Sonya blinked, and in the back of her mind she knew that she shouldn't take Stryker up on his proposal. He was drunk, she was drunk, and neither of them knew what they were doing.

But, if they were drunk, that meant they had an excuse. So she could marry without a single concern on her mind!

"Alright, let's do it!"

------

Stryker opened the door to his room, carrying Sonya across the threshold and placed her on the bed. "Well, Mrs. Kurtis Stryker, welcome home. Er, well, temporary home, at least."

She chuckled, tossing the bouquet of flowers over her shoulder. "This is great!" she crowed. "I'm married!"

"And I'm the husband to a beautiful woman," Stryker added smugly. "Tonight was a good night."

They stayed like that for a minute, then Sonya asked, "What do we do now?"

"I dunno. What do married people do?"

"Sleep together?"

"Want to do that then?"

She made a face, then said, "Eh."

"Eh?"

"I'm too sleepy. I'm gonna go to bed." With that she stretched out on his bed and slept.

He stood there, confused, poking her lightly. "Hey, that's my bed." She made no movement. "Oh well."

He took off his shirt and his boots, slipping the covers from underneath her and placing them over her gently. Then he snuggled in on his own side and fell asleep.

------

The next morning, Stryker woke up and yawned, wincing as a headache surged and made his first waking moments painful.

When the headache subsided, he opened one eye blearily and scanned the room.

Nothing seemed out of place. Then he felt it.

A hand. Down his pants.

He stiffened and sucked in a breath, fearing the worst. He tilted his head and looked down his torso.

Yep. There was the arm, and there was the wrist, but the hand could not be seen as his pants were still zipped.

He could feel it, though. All too well. And his second brain was reacting quite happily. But Stryker could do nothing, as any movement from him would alert the owner of the hand and much hitting would follow.

That was only if he moved below his waist line. He turned his head, hoping to see the woman so he could find a name and address and mail a letter expressing his sincerest apologies.

The pit of his stomach dropped and a cold feeling overwhelmed him as he found Sonya's head resting on his chest.

_Oh, God, no. Please, not this. Not **this**. The irony is too much, this can't be happening_!

Her lips twitched and she mumbled something, shifting so that she was closer to him. Her hand also went further down his pants.

_Oh, oh no. No further, please no furth- Oh. Well, that's—OH_!

He fought the urge to sit upright, opting instead to wring the life out of the sheets underneath him. Her hand was _way_ too close now. He had to find a way out of this mess, and without waking her up.

A plan formed in his mind, and he decided it was his only chance. Carefully and slowly he used the hand for wrangling the sheets and undid his zipper, taking it slow. When his pants were loosened he began sliding down to the foot of the bed, taking care to support her head with pillows when his chest was no longer available. He was nearly freed from her hand, and her hand freed from him, but she woke up too soon.

She was calm for a minute, taking her time to open her eyes. From her frown and the rubbing of a temple, Stryker could tell she was feeling the beginnings of a hangover.

Then she opened her eyes, took in Stryker and his bedroom, and she hissed, "What are you doing?"

"Good question," he croaked. "But, could you do me one favor? Take your hand out of my pants?"

She started and looked down. Sure enough, her hand was firmly wedged into the front of his pants. And she could feel the telltale bulge that told her Stryker had known about her proximity for a while.

She yanked it out and ignored his cry of surprise, rubbing her hands together. "What am I doing in here?" she demanded. She eyed him suspiciously. "We didn't have sex, did we?"

"Sonya," Stryker gasped, trying to regain control of his bodily functions before he was put on the Hall of Shame. "In order for two people to have sex, both parties have to be undressed, or at least without pants. Tell me, do you still have yours?"

He was right, she was still fully dressed. "So, we just got drunk and passed out here," she sighed, then caught sight of her left hand.

"I suppose," Stryker sighed in relief. She hadn't hit him at all throughout the ordeal; that was always a good sign. Then he heard his name. "Yeah?"

"Do you have a ring?" she asked nervously.

He scoffed. "I don't wear ri–" He stopped, feeling something strange on his left hand. He looked down. On his ring finger was a gold band, with an inscription that ran across the surface. Looking at Sonya's hand, he saw the second of the pair: hers was thinner, with a modest diamond in the middle and the same inscription written over it.

"Oh no," Stryker groaned. "No, we can't be. . . ."

"We're _married_," Sonya gasped, horrified.

Someone hammered at the door, and in a whirlwind Sonya flew to the bathroom while Stryker straightened out his bed and hid his wedding ring in his pocket. He opened the door when he made sure Sonya was out of sight and found a nervously pacing Liu in front of him.

"Hey Liu," Stryker smiled edgily. "Don't you think it's a little early to be out and about?"

"I need your help," Liu told him desperately, coming in and shutting the door behind himself. "I did a stupid thing last night."

_Can't have been any stupider than my mistake_, Stryker pointed out to himself dryly, and said, "Liu, I'm sure, whatever you did, it wasn't that huge of a mistake."

"Kitana and I got drunk last night," Liu started explaining hurriedly, ignoring Stryker as he rambled, "I don't know why I drank so much, I _know_ I can't drink as much as you or Jax can, but. . . Oh, Fujin, Pyros, and Levitan, I did a _stupid_ thing."

_Drunk? He and Kitana? This doesn't sound too good_. "Liu, you two didn't get. . . get _married_, did you?"

The Earth's Champion turned and gave him a piteous look. "Stryker, what am I supposed to do? I married Edenia's heir because we were in a drunken stupor! Not only that, but she's the most beautiful woman I know!"

_Well, I'm not too sure about that, Liu. Sure, Kitana's nice, but Sonya–_

_Whoa, buddy, what the hell do you think you're thinking?_

_Okay. That **has **to be the stupidest question I have ever asked myself_.

"Liu, calm down," Stryker tried to reason without letting his voice crack with the panic he was feeling about his own situation. "If you're so worried about this marriage, get a divorce, or an annulment."

"Then she'll think I don't want to be married to her!" Liu cried out. "And that's what I _do_ want."

"Then stay married to her."

"But I never wanted to marry her like this!" Liu slumped into the bed. "I wanted to propose and ask her mother for her blessing, not marry because we were too drunk to realize what a mistake it was!"

Stryker ran his hand through his hair, using all his willpower to not pull out fistfuls of it. He cared about Liu's welfare, he _did_, but right now he had his own problem and they were going around in circles. "Alright, Liu, then do this. Go to Kitana, ask her for a divorce-" He hushed Liu when he made to argue. "Hear me out before you interrupt. Ask her for a divorce, but explain to her in no uncertain terms that sometime in the near future you're going to propose to her. That way, you can do all of what you want, but marry her the way you wanted."

Liu considered it. "Do you think Kitana will go for that?" he asked, concern in his eyes. "What if she doesn't even care?"

"She cares, Liu," Stryker soothed him. "Now, go and tell her, and leave me to my peace. I drank too much last night and I'm going to puke any minute."

Deciding he would rather not be witness to that event, Liu did leave. As soon as the door was closed Sonya broke out of the bathroom and exchanged a look with Stryker. "I can't believe they got married," she said. She frowned at his green expression. "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to puke," he gasped before rushing to the bathroom and bringing up all of the liquid from the night before.

She stood in the doorway, shaking her head. "I thought he was joking about that part," she muttered.

------

The group met at a large table at breakfast time, and Jax instantly knew something was going on. Liu and Kitana were slightly nervous, and Sonya and Stryker were seated farther apart than usual. Nightwolf's behavior was also a little off. He was more cheerful. Only Sub-Zero was his normal self–quieter than a grave.

Everyone dug into their breakfasts, which consisted of heaping bowls of ice cream and a ranging choice between coffee, tea, and water.

"What did you guys do last night?" Jax decided to start the conversation, ensuring that it would go in the direction he wanted.

Liu and Kitana exchanged glances. "Let's just say alcohol and chapels really don't mix," Liu mumbled.

The heads at the table snapped up; Stryker seemed less surprised than the others, and Jax could swear Sonya's attention was elsewhere. "You got married?" Nightwolf asked, interested.

"Yes," Kitana nodded. "Why do Americans allow drunken people to marry?"

"Don't ask me," Sub-Zero replied. "I stay away from American culture."

Jax shook his head. "See, that's why I don't get drunk around here. There's too many wedding chapels here. You could walk into a McDonalds and find a chapel in the back of it."

"True," Stryker nodded, then drank deeply from his coffee. "That's very true."

"So, what're you two going to do?" Sonya asked. "Are you going to stay married?"

"No," Kitana told her with a smile. "We will have an annulment, then Liu will properly propose to me in time."

"That's nice," Nightwolf said. "And this time the all of us can be invited to the wedding."

"Yeah," Jax nodded. "So, Liu and Kitana got married. What about the rest of you? Stryker, Sonya?"

Stryker busied himself with taking an extra long drink from his coffee; Sonya took a bite of her _World Class_ ice cream that was very unladylike. Stryker finished before her, and he said hurriedly, "Just a few games at the casinos, a _lot_ of drinks, then I went off to sleep. Nothing much more important than that."

"I took a stroll around town," Sonya shrugged. "Started looking for you guys, but I went ahead and played a few rounds of poker."

Jax could always tell when his partner was lying. Stryker's attitude seemed too taciturn for him to be feeling well. "You two sure nothing else happened?" he prodded. "Didn't bump into each other at the casinos or anything?"

"Yep, nothing," they chorused. They went back to their ice-cream breakfasts.

The others started to catch on to their odd silence. "You two seem a little quiet," Liu said. "Especially you, Stryker."

"I can be quiet when I want to," Stryker retorted.

"No you can't," everyone rebutted, including Sonya. He sat back in his chair, disgruntled.

The group sat in silence for a minute, Nightwolf excusing himself to get a second bowl of ice cream. They remained silent; Liu, Jax, Kitana, and Sub-Zero wondering how to crack Stryker and Sonya, who made no attempts to appease their worry.

Nightwolf came back with a plate and a note in hand. "Hey, Sonya, the front desk had a letter for you," he said. Receiving no reaction, he decided to read it aloud. "From the Hope Chapel of Las Vegas, we congratulate you– _Mr. and Mrs. Kurtis Stryker for your marriage_?"

Stryker choked on his _NY French Vanilla_; Sonya froze, a cup of water resting at her lips. Stryker finally managed to swallow his breakfast properly before turning to Sonya and muttering, "We just _had_ to get married at a chapel that sends congratulatory notes, didn't we?"

"You two got _married_?" the group chorused in shock.

"Apparently," Sonya gulped. "I mean, how many Kurtis Stryker's can there be in a city?"

"Three," Nightwolf replied matter-of-factly. "I went to Atlantic City once and ran into three Kurtis Stryker's at the same casino, none of them you, Stryker."

The two sat, stunned. "So we could've lied and gotten away with it?" Stryker groaned.

"No," Jax shook his head. "Sonya can't lie around me. She always hitches her voice at the end whenever she tries to."

"So the two of you got married?" Kitana blinked. "I assume that's why Sonya did not come to the room last night."

Sonya winced; she had been hoping that wouldn't come up. "I passed out in his room from all the drinking, that's _all_ that happened."

Stryker wanted desperately to add that she had also stuck her hand down his pants, but self-preservation told him firmly, _No_. "Nothing happened," he confirmed her statement.

"The two of you _are_ going to get a divorce, right?" Jax asked worriedly. "I mean, the two of you _unmarried_ to each other is bad enough; what kind of horror would come out of a marriage between you?"

"We're getting a divorce, Jax, stop worrying," Sonya rolled her eyes. "We just wanted a quiet breakfast first."

"But since quiet is out the window," Stryker carved a spoonful of his ice cream, "we'll settle for plain old breakfast."

"I think the two of you should go, now," Jax said firmly, and with that he grabbed their collars and pulled them out of their chairs.

"Do you mind if I use your cell phone, Stryker?" Sub-Zero asked him before he was hauled off.

Stryker tossed the item in question and began protesting the rough treatment as Jax took the two out of the dining area. Liu, Kitana, and Nightwolf followed, all curious as to how this would turn out.

Making sure they were all gone, Sub-Zero flipped the cell open and dialed a number he had memorized. Waiting for the voice on the other end, he greeted, "Hello, it's me. Yes, I am fine. I have a question for you, though. Do you think our chapel sends congratulatory notes?"

------

"Jax, honestly," Nightwolf said as the group followed the Major to City Hall. "I think you're making a big deal out of this. So what if they're married? Liu and I married here, too."

Everyone stopped their pace, turning to stare at the Indian. "'Liu and I'?" Liu repeated. "What do you mean by 'Liu and I,' Nightwolf?"

Raising a brow, Nightwolf held up his left hand. Around the ring finger was a simple gold band. "I got married last night."

Stryker whistled. "Wow. So it's only Jax and Sub that didn't get any last night."

"You didn't get anything either, Stryker," Sonya muttered.

"I nearly did," he murmured back, low enough so only she could hear.

"I thought you never drank, Nightwolf," Kitana frowned.

"I don't drink. Not everyone in Las Vegas gets married because their judgment is impaired. In my case, she's an old friend that I've been wanting to marry for a while." Nightwolf looked at his watch. "Speaking of my marriage, I need to go see my wife in a bit."

"Why didn't you invite us to the wedding?" Stryker demanded.

"None of you could be found. And besides, I was always the kind of person that preferred small and private ceremonies." He turned and started walking across the street, waving behind him, "Have fun with the divorce papers!"  
"He's too smug," Stryker told Jax. "We need to get him back for this."

"In the meantime," Jax turned and stared at his partner and her husband. "We need to get you two divorced."

"Why are you in such a hurry to divorce us, Jax?" Sonya replied. "It's not like you're our parents."

"Thank God for that small favor," Stryker sighed.

"He's ensuring the safety of humanity," Liu joked. "If the two of you ever breed, Shao Kahn will be the last of our fears."

"Hey!" Stryker and Sonya cried, insulted.

"It's sadly true," Kitana joined in.

"Hey!"

"Liu and Kit are right," Jax nodded. "That, and think of your poor children, having to endure you two as parents."

"_Hey_!"

------

"What do you mean we can't get a divorce?" Stryker petitioned the lawyer. "We were married, and now we want a divorce!"

"You were never legally married," the lawyer replied patiently. "In order for a person to be legally married, your marriage licenses must be valid."

"And they weren't?" Sonya frowned.

"Yours was," the lawyer nodded to her before tilting it towards Stryker. "His wasn't."

"But," Stryker stopped, thought it through, then recalled, "Oh. It expired nine years ago."

"You're kidding, right?" Sonya rubbed her temples. She agreed to _marry_ this man?

"He isn't," the lawyer shook his head. "So, under state law, you were never legally married, and thus you cannot be divorced."

Stryker leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Well, that's a relief. Less paperwork."

"Is that your only relief?" Sonya demanded. "That you have no paperwork to do?"

"Well, yeah."

"You chauvinistic pig."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Not!"

"_Are_!"

"_Not_!"

The lawyer watched the two yell at each other, shaking his head. _These two cannot be allowed to marry. It could mean the end of civilization as humanity knows it_. "Excuse me?"

The two stopped arguing and looked at the lawyer.

"I apologize for your inconveniences. However, may I suggest Dr. Marvin Pardroid? He's a psychologist that does marvelous counseling . . ."

------

"So, you got the divorces?" Jax asked the two pairs as they exited the offices.

Liu and Kitana nodded but Stryker and Sonya shook their heads.

"Didn't need it," Stryker explained. "We were never legally married to begin with."

"Because some idiot forgot his license expired nine years ago," Sonya rolled her eyes.

"It was an honest mistake!"

"Yeah, right," Sonya retorted. "Where's Sub-Zero?"

"Right here," the ninja announced himself from behind, holding out Stryker's cell. "I went around the casinos while I waited for you."

"Thanks," Stryker took his cell. "Who'd you call?"

"No one important."

Skeptical, Stryker flipped his cell open and pressed a few buttons. "What are you doing?" Sub-Zero asked, nervous.

"Checking all the numbers previously called. Dandy little tool, isn't it?" Stryker drifted off as he found a foreign number in the memory list. "Who's 319-3930?"

"No one, Stryker. Leave it alone."

Ignoring the ninja Stryker punched the numbers in and waited, doing his best not to be intimidated by the icy glare. The dial sounded three times before someone picked up. "Hi," Stryker greeted. "I lent a friend my cell and apparently he called this number a few hours ago. I was wondering if I could get the name of the person he spent so much of his time with?"

Sub-Zero put his forehead to his palm, waiting for the mockery.

"Uh huh. Ahh, huh. Okay. Thanks, bye." Stryker hung up and shrugged. "Sub-Zero, if you wanted to learn more about American culture, you didn't have to go and ask a complete stranger for help."

"What?" Liu, Jax, Sonya and Kitana frowned. Sub-Zero raised his eyes, wondering what in the world she had told him.

"Yeah, our boy Sub-Zero here used his time to learn more about the finer aspects of Americanism."

The group did not believe Stryker in the least. But, knowing Sub-Zero would never speak, they accepted it and went on their way to find Nightwolf.

When they were out of hearing range, Sub-Zero turned to Stryker and asked, "Why did you lie to them about Frost? You know we married last night."

"Three reasons. One, because I respect your privacy and the fact that, had you wanted them to know, you would have told them yourself. Two, because Jax needs another 'bachelor' companion in order to feel better. It's ironic that out of all of us, he's the only one that didn't marry last night. Well, besides myself, but I still think that marriage counted despite the problem with my license."

"Whatever you believe. You said you had three reasons?"

Sub-Zero had lived in the coldest parts of China for over two decades, and he could still freeze people just by twitching a finger. But the smile that Stryker wore as he looked at Sub-Zero chilled him more than anything he had ever experienced. "Reason number three: because now I have juicy blackmail material to use against you."

* * *

Yes, I wasn't terribly clever and original with Sub-Zero's new wife.But I wanted Sub-Zero to marry, and quite honestly I don't see Sub marrying an average American female. No, he has to get the one who cankick his butt.


	10. A Funeral, Yummy Ice Cream, and 'The Cod

Warning: The following section describes images of animal cruelty. I do NOT approve whatsoever of any cruel and sadistic acts done against animals, and the examples are entirely fictional. As far as I know, Friskies does not use ground-up dogs in its products, so please don't boycott Friskies because of that. I have also borrowed a concept from Friends, which also does not belong to me.

And a reply to my anonymous reviewer Aaron: Yay, I'm glad you're enjoying this. The reason why it appeared to have "stopped" was because this is my "dammit, I can't write anything more with my other fics" fic, and I post whenever I get writer's block with my other fics. Rest assured, there is plenty more already written on this story; it's just a matter of me hitting writer's block and posting.

* * *

**_A Funeral, Yummy Ice Cream, and 'The Code'_**

"Mail call," Nightwolf announced, coming into the kitchen. The noises of conversation died away as mail was distributed and read.

"How come we still have to pay bills even though we're not using our own homes?" Sonya frowned, looking at her cable bill.

"How come we still don't have an answer to that question, even though that's the seventh time this month you've asked it?" Jax retorted, looking at his extensive electric bill.

A whoop brought their attention to Stryker, who looked much more cheerful than when he first walked blindly into the kitchen with bed hair, demanding coffee and yummy _NY French Vanilla_ ice cream. "What is it, Stryker?" Liu asked.

"My Great-Aunt Trudy's dead!"

Liu shared a confused look with the others before returning his gaze to the joyous man. "Um, I'm sorry for your loss . . . I think?"

Stryker glared at Liu as though he were growing horns out of his head. "What the hell are you sorry for? It's about time the crusty old hag died. I swear, the only reason she lived to be 109 was to spite the family."

"Stryker, she is still family," Kitana shook her head at his terrible attitude toward the death. "You should grant her respect."

Stryker shrugged, entirely dismissive. "We disowned each other, so I don't consider her family. The only thing I ever regret about that event is the fact that she beat me to it."

"What's got you so put off about your great-aunt, Stryker?" Sonya wanted to know. "I mean, sure, if she was 109 she was probably a little senile, but before–"

"I haven't talked to her since I was ten years old, but I know for a fact that what she did with her life had nothing to do with senility. She was one hell of an animal cruelty supporter."

"Animal cruelty?" Jax raised a brow. "I didn't expect you to be an animal rights activist. I mean, you don't even have pets."

"I used to," Stryker replied, a nostalgic look creeping across his face. "My dad got me a puppy for my fifth birthday."

"I thought you didn't like dogs," Sub-Zero tilted his head, slightly confused.

"Then Great-Aunt Trudy ran it over with her car."

The Defenders paled. "The poor thing," Sonya made a sympathetic face. "Did you have a burial for it?"

"Didn't get a chance. As soon as she was done mowing it over with her car seven times she took it to her barn, skinned what was left of the fur, and ground the meat up for a pet food company. Friskies if I remember right."

The group stared. "You are joking, right?" Nightwolf gulped. He could not imagine his own family hurting Kiva and using the corpse in such a. . . derogatory fashion.

"Nope. She did that with a lot of the neighborhood pets. She even caught a parrot and used the feathers for pillow stuffing. She had a real liking for kittens, too. Skinned and boiled a newborn while it was still alive before she chopped it up. I didn't get to play with the other kids in school for two years because of that."

Silence pervaded the room. Kitana soon turned to Jax and asked him, "I am not well-versed in Earth's culture, but. . . his family is downright freaky, correct?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Jax nodded.

Stryker shrugged. "Don't blame me. Blame the Irish. They're the ones that bred her."

"What is this about blaming the Irish?" Rayden interrupted as he teleported in, narrowing his eyes at Stryker. "The Irish make a good brew, what do you have against them?"

"The loss of a fine puppy and several other beloved household pets," Stryker replied without hesitation.

Rayden appeared at a loss for words, caught off-guard by Stryker's reasoning. "Okay. . . So why are we talking about Stryker's great-aunt?"

"She's dead and I'm thrilled," Stryker sighed in relief, placing his hands behind his head and resting his feet on the table. "No more haunting memories of stuffed ferrets for me. I can go on with my life and forget I was ever related to such a sadistic person."

"Stryker?" Sub-Zero interrupted, holding his letter. "You may have to wait for that to happen. It says here she left something in her will for you, and you must attend the hearing in a few hours to receive it."

Stryker lowered his feet with a loud _clunk_. "_She_ left something for _me_ in _her _will?"

Sub-Zero wrinkled his brow at him. "Why must Americans repeat information before doing something about it?"

"Do you have any idea what she would want to leave you?" Sonya asked.

"Aside from a horrendously-ugly-afghan-that-defies-all-fashion-rules-that-even-_she_-didn't-want? No."

"I guess you'll have to go to the reading of the will, then," Liu shrugged. "Honestly, it shouldn't be that bad. I mean, she's already dead, what more can she do to you?"

"Liu," Jax scolded him, "we're living through a tournament with a tyrannical emperor of another dimension where we have to fight, on a daily basis, beings that shouldn't exist except for in a kid's closet. How much do you want to bet that something _isn't_ going to happen?"

The room was silent once again.

"Fifty bucks for something happening within an hour of the event," Nightwolf placed his bet down on the table.

"I say twenty minutes," Jax followed Nightwolf.

Sub-Zero placed his own bet on the table. "Half an hour."

"Fifteen minutes," Liu put his bet on top of the ninja's.

"Two hours, thirty-one minutes, and seventeen seconds," Sonya slapped her bet down. She met their skeptical gazes with an innocent "What?"

"Fifty minutes," Kitana slowly placed hers on top.

"An hour and a half," Rayden got in on the action as well.

While the fighters were busy with this, Stryker glared around the table at his comrades before groaning and putting his forehead on the table.

Today was _not_ going to be a good day.

------

"You guys really didn't have to come along, you know," Stryker winced at his friends as they walked up his dusty driveway to an old house that rested on a farm. He didn't know what irritated him more: the fact that he was attending his long-hated Great-Aunt Trudy's funeral, the fact that he would be enduring his manic mother's harping about his bachelorhood in a few minutes, or the fact that his tie itched like crazy. He twisted the offending garment for the fifth time in the past ten minutes and added, "It will probably be long and boring and I doubt you all want to get stuck with my relatives–"  
"_Kurtis_!" Stryker blanched and spun, growing paler as a small woman hurtled down the porch steps with a speed that belied her size. She tackled him and hugged him fiercely around the neck; her blonde hair was dressed in tight curls around her face and blue eyes were squeezed firmly shut as she hugged the Captain.

"Ma–you're choking me!" Stryker gasped.

"It's so _good_ to see you home!" the woman–Mrs. Stryker–cheered, ignoring her son's flushed face. "And you brought friends with you as well!"

"Yeah," Stryker rasped, rubbing his throat tenderly. "Ma, this is Liu, Kitana, Chang and Ray," Chang was the alias for Sub-Zero and Rayden had decided to join the group in visiting Stryker's childhood residence, "Nightwolf, Jax, and this is Sonya–"

"Your wife!" Mrs. Stryker interrupted, taking Sonya's hand and eagerly squeezing it.

Stryker choked. "What– no, no Ma, Sonya isn't–"

"You honestly should have told us sooner, Kurtis," Mrs. Stryker spoke over his voice, completely oblivious to the group's look of shock. "Especially if you had eloped. Of course, the marriage between your father and I was an elopement, but you shouldn't have felt the need to hide your marriage from _me_. I am your mother after all. But it truly is about time you got married, I was near to thinking I would have to tie you up and marry you to the first available woman. Come come, we can talk all about the happiness of marriage later. We still have your Great-Aunt Trudy to say hello to."

The mother wandered off, leaving the group staring at her retreating back. After a moment Stryker turned to them dramatically and pointed to her. "_That_," he said through gritted teeth, "is why I don't go home for the holidays."

"Why is she assuming we're married?" Sonya growled.

"She's been after me to get hitched for years," Stryker grumbled. "Ever since I turned eighteen and took my first step out of the house she's been nagging me about it. Every year she sends a Christmas card with the list of women that are still single in the neighborhood."

"At least you get that," Jax raised a brow, still unsure if he liked to entertain the thought of his partner and Stryker married—again. "The only thing my mother sends me is a cheap Hallmark card and a ticket to see the Supremes."

Rayden cocked his head. "The Supremes are disbanded."

"That's why I said his gift was better."

"What do you think she meant by saying hello to your great-aunt, Stryker?" Nightwolf asked, wishing once again that Kiva was by his side. But after what Stryker had revealed about his family, he felt the wolf was safer at the base–and away from animal-cruelty supporters.

"Probably meant my adieus," Stryker shrugged. "What else could she mean?"

------

Stryker stared at the doorway, disbelieving his luck. When his family had sent the letter to him, they had made it sound like his Great-Aunt Trudy had finally kicked the bucket. The reality: the woman still had an ounce of fight left in her but wanted to see her will done out to her liking before she croaked.

Cursing that ounce for all his worth, Stryker twisted the doorknob and opened the door, dragging his feet like a reluctant child.

"Pick up your feet and get in here, you lazy scum," the voice from the bed should have been weak, but there was still a strong vitality to it. "And shut that damn door. You're letting all the incense out."

Personally, Stryker felt it would do the room a service to leave the door open and air it out, but he closed the door and came as close to the bed as he could muster the courage for.

Two feet from the foot of the bed was close enough, right?

"Get over here and let me have a look at you, you ass," the old lady scowled.

Gritting his teeth, Stryker shuffled forward and reminded himself of all the worse times.

Finding the fridge empty of _NY French Vanilla_ ice cream. Finding the fridge empty of _Chocolate Chip_ ice cream. Finding the fridge empty of _Pink Bubblegum_ ice cream.

Yes, he had to admit to himself that he found that last flavor enticing. Especially now.

"You been eating properly lately?" the old woman growled. "You look thin."

"My eating habits are perfectly fine, thank you," Stryker retorted, trying to stay civil.

"Oh, don't give me any of that crap! You're a scoundrel and we both know it, so quit with your polite tongue and sit down!"

He sat. Then he glared. "I am _not_ a scoundrel."

"You married?"

"Er, in contradiction to what my mother might have you believe, no."

"Then I suppose you're right, you ain't a scoundrel."

"Thanks. . . I think."

"You're a Don Juan with bad looks!"

Stryker sighed. "I was right the first time. I'm not thankful."

"Don't take that tone with me! I'm your elder and to be treated with respect!"

Rolling his eyes, he grumbled, "What did you want to see me for? I have better things to do with my time than listen to someone insult me."

"Pipe down!" the old woman grabbed a rolled-up newspaper sitting on her night stand and struck him on the knee. "I'll say what I want to say when I want to say it!"

Stryker winced. That slap on the knee _hurt_.

"Now," the old woman puffed herself up to look imperial and self-righteous. Stryker simply thought she looked wrinkly and toad-like. "You're wondering why I left you something in my will, even though we disagree on certain topics."

Stryker duly noted that she took full control of what his emotions were.

"The fact is, you're the only one who ain't a damn sycophant and trying to keep me happy. You have an opinion and you voice it. As irritating, wrong, and retarded as you are, you have guts to say them."

Stryker sighed mentally. _She and Sonya should get together and make a Let's-Bash-Stryker's-Ego club_.

"So, for that reason, I have decided to give you monetary inheritance. The majority of it shall be given to you, and the remaining portion is for other purposes. That is why, so now you won't have to overstrain that pea you call a brain thinking about it."

Stryker lifted a brow. Well, that explained some things. "So, how much am I getting?"

The glare the old woman gave him scared him pee-less. "GET OUT!"

------

"I can't believe Stryker's mother thinks I'm _married_ to him," Sonya sulked to Kitana, sipping her ice cream shake through a straw in a hallway. "How can she possibly think that?"

"You were married to him before, Sonya," Kitana replied, drinking her own shake with delicacy. Noticing the glare, Kitana amended her comment, "Unlawfully wedded, to be sure, but in essence you were married to him. In Edenia, there are no such things as marriage licenses, and there are no such things as divorces."

"Good thing we weren't married in Edenia then," Sonya sipped once more, worshiping the shake. "Yummy."

"Yummy indeed," Kitana echoed fervently.

A man appeared from seemingly nowhere, taking the open seat next to Sonya and saying, "Hey there, you must be new. I'm Jonas, Jonas Gabriel."

Sonya busied herself with drinking her shake, doing her best to ignore the man. She was already falsely married to someone; the last thing she needed was a false boyfriend. But when it became obvious Jonas wasn't taking the hint to leave, she gave him a smarmy smile and said, "Blade. Lieutenant Blade."

Kitana could tell this would turn out badly. And she had no intention whatsoever of getting in the middle of it. She excused herself elegantly (enough to be worthy of praise from even Shao Kahn) and scurried away. Even though her back was turned, Kitana knew Sonya was glowering and swearing silently against her.

"So, what is it exactly that you do, Lieutenant?" Jonas queried innocently. "I mean, what branch do you work for?"

"Special Forces," Sonya grated out. "Look, I'm not in the mood for company right now so if you could please leave that would be nice."

His face fell. "But, we're having such a great time."

_A great time? We barely exchanged three sentences_! "And I'm _dreadfully_ sorry to disappoint you," Sonya replied, "but I really feel like having some alone-time right now."

Just as the Jonas began to speak again Stryker came into view, looking slightly pale and queasy. "Where is everyone?" he asked Sonya, ignoring Jonas.

"I don't know where the guys are, but if Kitana knows what's good for her, she's looking for a nice patch of ground for a final resting place."

Stryker raised a brow, but didn't inquire further. "Alright. Well, I'd say we should blow this joint, but . . . my mother'd kick my ass from here to Kingdom Come if I left so soon."

Jonas cleared his voice, drawing Stryker's attention. "Could you excuse us?" he asked icily. "The lady and I were having a nice chat before you rudely interrupted."

Raising his other brow, Stryker replied, "You and _Sonya_? Having a _nice_ chat? What did you use to spike her shake?"

Sonya was fighting the urge to kick Stryker in the knee when inspiration dawned on her. _I never thought I would be thanking Stryker's mother for anything, but here I am thanking her for such a smart idea_. "Jonas, I really do hate to leave you like this, but my _husband_ and I have to go find our friends and liven the place up. Until next time." With that, she grabbed a befuddled Stryker's arm and dragged him down the hallway, sparing only a second to revel in Jonas' shocked look.

When they were safely away Sonya dropped Stryker's arm and growled, "If you tell _anyone_ about what happened back there, Kitana will have a grave-neighbor within a day. And I when I say grave, I don't mean the adjective."

"What the hell was all that about, anyway?" Stryker demanded, glancing back down the hall and back to her. "Why'd you tell Joanie that we're married?"

She paused. "'Joanie'?"

"Nickname. He's some sort of cousin to me, but we haven't had much contact. Nothing pleasant, at least. We went to school together, but I had my clique of friends and he. . . had himself. I always hated him. Used too much time dressing up for P.E. and not enough time watching where he was swinging his bat. So I and everyone else that hates him call him Joanie."

"He didn't seem to recognize you. . ."

"I'm not surprised," Stryker shrugged. "He was always in his own little world, believing that he was the best because his parents could afford five cows instead of just four. Senior year, he couldn't name one of his teachers that he was taking classes from because he thought he was better than them."

"That's sad," Sonya shook her head. She tilted her head at him. "So, how was your great-aunt?"

From his grimace she could predict his answer easily. "The nicest thing she could do for me was take back calling me a scoundrel in favor of calling me a philanderer. Other than that, she called me retarded and her room stinks like a barn that hasn't been cleaned in fifty years."

They found their way into the reception hall and where Jax was talking with a woman. The woman had long, strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, and upon closer inspection Sonya could see her eyes were hazel.

Stryker frowned. "What does Jax think he's doing?"

"What do you mean?" Sonya didn't receive an answer as he stormed to Jax. With a disgruntled sigh she followed him.

Jax turned as he felt a tap on his shoulder, and found an irate Stryker glaring at him. "What are you doing?" the Captain demanded without a single greeting.

"Talking with Lindsey here," Jax smiled at the woman, who smiled back. However, Sonya detected a certain mischief in that smile.

"I can see that, Jax," Stryker growled. "I still don't know _why_ you're talking to her."

"Oh, lay off, Kurt," Lindsey rolled her eyes. "He is a perfect gentleman."

Sonya and Jax exchanged a startled glance. She called him Kurt, and from Stryker's look he wasn't ready to reprimand her like he would have others in her place.

"Maybe I should make a more formal introduction, since it's obvious Kurt's too busy glaring Jax down to make one," Lindsey stated. She did a tiny curtsy and said, "Lindsey Stryker, pleased to make your acquaintances."

Jax started. "Lindsey _Stryker_? You're related to . . . him?" he pointed to their comrade.

"Yes," Stryker snapped. "She's my _little_ sister, Jax."

"And I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Kurt," Lindsey shot back. "Especially about my dating interests."

Without waiting for her brother's answer she grabbed Jax's arm and led him away, ignoring the Major's confused blathering. Sonya whistled. "Looks like they're getting on well."

"Don't say that," Stryker hissed. "He's breaking The Code!"

"'The Code'?" Sonya snorted. "What's 'The Code'?"

"The Code firmly states," Stryker began vehemently, "that you are never to date your friend's former girlfriends, prospective dates, and relations, _especially **little** sisters_!"

"Oh, for God's sakes," Sonya rolled her eyes at him, "how juvenile can men be? Codes are for high school boys that have no lives or self-confidence."

Her words had no effect on the man; Stryker seethed as he thought of Jax flirting with his little sister. "Liu, Nightwolf, and Sub-Zero had better stay away from my other sisters if they know what's good for them."

"Four things, Stryker. One, Nightwolf is happily married. Second, Liu has a girlfriend–though not for long," Sonya added under her breath. "Thirdly, do you honestly think Sub-Zero would look for a relationship? And the last thing, how many sisters do you _have_?"

"Five, including Linz. And I'd rather be safe than sorry. C'mon, let's go find them."

"What in the world would a woman want with six children?"

"Seven children, actually. My parents were waiting for a boy. They had three girls before I came along, and Lindsey after me. After her came fraternal twins."

"They should have stopped after the third girl," Sonya mumbled. Stryker gave her a glare before returning to looking for their other three male comrades.

Liu and Nightwolf they found nowhere near female company; Nightwolf for the reason that he was married and Liu because he was keeping the Indian company. Both took Stryker's threats lightly and waved him onward to the food table (more accurately, the ice cream table; nothing except yummy sundaes, splits, shakes, and gallon-buckets of ice cream could be seen on the tabletop) where Sub-Zero stood. Two women were with him, and from Stryker's increasingly belligerent look Sonya decided that they were two of Stryker's other sisters.

One was much younger than Stryker; she seemed barely past her teenager years. Her hair was waist-long and completely blonde, with the same hazel eyes as Stryker and Lindsey. She was short with a delicate frame, making her hand-me-down clothes drape around her like robes.

The second woman was older, with more lines about her eyes than Stryker. Her straight, flaming-red hair was cut to ear-length, and instead of the hazel eyes belonging to her siblings they were bright blue. She was dressed in a casual business suit, with a cell phone in one hand and the other resting on the table.

Sub-Zero was obviously uncomfortable around both women. That observation went past Stryker as he came up behind him and growled, "Anne, Sara, Su–Chang, what are you doing?"

Turning quickly, Sub-Zero raised his eyes briefly in a '_**Thank you **God_' look and said, "I was actually going to find Liu. I'll see you later."

He fled the area, leaving the two women to sigh. Actually, the younger one sighed; the woman shrugged and flipped her cell open as it rang. "Hello? Oh, finally Eric, where the hell have you been? The party's been a serious bust—hang on a minute." She parted with the device to smile at Stryker and said, "Hey Kurt. Ma was looking for you, crowing about your marriage."

Stryker scowled. "I'm not married, Anne. And where are Meredith and Madison?"

"In the garage tinkering with the old truck, like always," Anne rolled her eyes. "Look, sorry to cut the reunion short, but I really have to take this call." With that she walked away.

"Isn't she a busy little badger," Sonya snorted.

"Anne always is," the girl–Sara–shrugged. "She actually tried to convince the doctors to let her type her resume while she was in labor with her third."

Stryker turned to his younger sister and glowered down at her. "Sara, I don't want you flirting with any of my friends, you hear me? They're too old for you."

"I wasn't flirting," Sara tried to deny, lamely at that. When his glare only intensified, she caved. "Okay, fine, so I was flirting. What're you going to do about it?"

"Tell Dad," he replied firmly.

Her already pale face whitened even more. "You wouldn't!"

"Worse yet, maybe I'll tell Ma."

Fuming, Sara stomped off in the opposite direction Sub-Zero went. Stryker felt pretty good with himself, but then he caught sight of Sonya's raised brow. "I'm her older brother, I have to do something to keep her in line," he muttered.

"Aren't you a little old to be playing tattletale?" she retorted.

He sneered at her before a loud bell chimed in the room. "I have to go," he sighed. "The will's being read now."

"Have fun," Sonya called after him, smiling deviously. "Be sure to appreciate all that your great-aunt did for you!"

"You know where to shove it, Blade!" was the instant rejoinder.

------

Stryker looked around the table at those sitting in the hearing with him, whimpering internally. To his right was his mother, who continually beamed at him and told her neighbors how her first son had finally tied the knot with a beautiful woman; to his left was his father who patted him on the shoulder sympathetically and murmured to him that eventually she would stop focusing on the topic of marriage—only to move on to the topic of grandchildren.

Stryker still hadn't decided which was worse.

Across from him sat Jonas Gabriel, to his amazement. Stryker had thought his cousin only attended the 'funeral' because the entire town had been invited (and only an eighth showed up, Stryker had noted). But it appeared that his great-aunt had something to bequeath to Gabriel.

And it also appeared that Gabriel had a bone to pick with him. Ever since Stryker had taken his seat across from him, Gabriel hadn't moved his eyes elsewhere. It started to become unnerving, especially when other people tried holding a conversation with Gabriel and the man continued to stare resolutely at Stryker.

He suspected Sonya had something to do with it, and the fact that Gabriel believed he was married to her. He could easily stand up and tell the entire group–specifically his mother and Gabriel–that he was _not_ married, and that meant especially to Sonya.

But then Gabriel would know that Sonya was free to date, and he would begin following her, and that meant an irritated Sonya. Ergo, a dead Stryker would turn up shortly after the announcement, and not just his mother that would suffer from a heart-attack due to the shock of the truth. And Stryker liked living, thank you very much.

That, and his roach of a Great-Aunt Trudy would outlive him if Sonya murdered him.

And that was _completely_ unacceptable.

So Stryker sat in his chair, enduring his mother's exaggerations (currently she had him and Sonya married two years with a child on the way, and that was after they adopted a whole orphanage of children and donated their life-savings to the unfortunate in some nameless country someplace in South America) and ignoring Gabriel's glares. He stared diligently up at the ceiling, trying to count all the ponies his great-aunt had painted on her ceiling and occasionally slurped his yummy _Vanilla_ shake.

_It really is a yummy shake_, Stryker thought. _I need to get the recipe_.

Finally, the attorney entered the room with a pile of manila folders. The man did not look like the stereotypical lawyer; he was robust and scar-faced, with one eye hidden underneath a patch and one side of his mouth scarred and dragged downward in an eternal frown.

_Just figures that Great-Aunt would hire the most unpleasant of the bunch_, Stryker mused.

"Order, order," the attorney spoke, catching Stryker off-guard again. While the man was huge in appearance, his voice was squeaky and hushed. "Now, we are here to settle the affairs of one Trudy Isabelle Stryker. Is Jonas Gabriel present?"

"Yes," Gabriel raised a hand, finally taking his eyes off of Stryker.

"You, young man," the attorney shifted through the manila folders until he found just the right one. The folder was three inches thick. "Have been bequeathed with Ms. Stryker's business—The Cat's Paw."

_The Cat's Paw indeed. Also the tail and the eyes and the intestines. . . ._

The attorney passed the folder down to Gabriel; the latter did not look very pleased. In fact, if Stryker were to put it bluntly, he looked downright P.O.'ed.

"Jacob Stryker?" Stryker's father raised his hand. "You have been bequeathed with Ms. Stryker's house. All her material belongings aside from her wealth and an afghan are included."

The attorney passed on a second folder. That one was as thick as Gabriel's, but his father did not share the same disappointment. His father remained thoughtful and unprovoked, as Stryker had always remembered him.

"All minor inheritance have been discussed and distributed. The only other matter is Ms. Stryker's wealth, and she requested for it to be done privately-"

"Wait a minute!" an old man–his uncle from his mother's side, if Stryker remembered correctly–stood and slammed a fist down indignantly. "We have a right to know where all that money is going! She owes people money and we demand to be compensated!"

"Oh, pipe down, Mick," Stryker's father rolled his eyes. "The old woman paid you her dues months ago, she owes no one anything. And to anyone else that she forgot in her illness, you'll get your money, I'm sure the recipient wouldn't dream of swindling you your money."

As he spoke his eyes came to rest on his son. Stryker shrugged carelessly. His job at the NYPD paid him well enough so that he could live in his apartment comfortably. Add to that the money Rayden had promised everyone after the tournament came to a close, he could retire and live in a life of luxury in the cabin he bought up in the Catskills a few years ago at the ripe old age of thirty-six. His great-aunt's fortune wouldn't give him anything he didn't already have.

_Aside from a solution to my mother's fixation on marriage and grandchildren, perhaps_.

"Who _is_ the recipient?" a woman inquired. Stryker didn't recognize her; he supposed she was a third cousin or something.

The attorney sighed and decided he could at least give out the name. "Ms. Stryker has chosen Kurtis Stryker to receive a portion of her wealth and-"

"_Him_?" the woman demanded, glaring at him dreadfully. Stryker felt like hiding behind his father and crying—why was everyone glaring at him today?

"Do you have a problem with my son, Betsy?" his mother growled.

Stryker put his face in his hands and moaned. This would not turn out pretty; his mother had the most vocal backbone of the family. When someone poked fun at her children, Mother Stryker became a very vicious person.

But now at least he knew who the woman was: his aunt-twice removed Betsy Flint. The same aunt that had caused a ruckus when he was twelve by marrying his three-times removed uncle, Barry Rabble. Not to mention adopting and raising piglets as children.

He still didn't know why he was subjected to such a dysfunctional family.

"Yes, I do, Liza," Betsy retorted. "He has no right to that money, he turned his back on the dear old woman years ago and broke her heart!"

_Broke her heart my ass. She probably broke out a keg of her oldest stuff and partied the night away._

"Now, Betsy, you know Aunt Trudy as well as I do," Stryker's father stepped in, ever the mediator. "If anyone is as venom-filled as the devil himself, it's her. And I know no one can disagree with me."

No one did. They all nodded understandingly, even the attorney.

"So let the attorney finish his part and let him go on home, where he can return to sanity."

Betsy gave Stryker one last glower before sitting down. Stryker's mother huffed and turned her nose away.

Giving Jacob Stryker a thankful look, the attorney returned to what he had been saying.

"Kurtis Stryker has been bequeathed with monetary fortune, totaling to a very handsome figure. The two-thirds of her wealth she has left him has been tax-deducted, and comes to the grand total of. . . ."

------

"So things are going well with Lindsey?" Sonya chuckled with the others at Jax's discomfort. They were lazing about the reception hall, waiting for Stryker to return from the hearing. It had been well over an hour now, but they entertained themselves by tormenting Jax.

"I didn't know, alright!" Jax growled. "Something about her reminded me of Stryker, but I just figured it was the brain-freeze the shake gave me! And damn that was a yummy shake," he added thoughtfully.

"And that's why you now have a date with her this Friday?" Liu rolled his eyes, ignoring Jax's comment and using his left arm to reassure Kitana. Sonya kept giving Kitana rather nasty looks, and the Champion could only guess what was going on between the two.

"Don't talk so loud!" Jax hushed, panicked. "Stryker could be anywhere near here!"

"And of course you don't want him hearing how badly you've broken The Code," Nightwolf shook his head.

"What is it with men and this code?" Sonya demanded. "I suppose I can understand Stryker and Jax's obsession with it, but not you, Nightwolf."

The men all stared at Sonya. "The Code is followed by every man, Sonya," Sub-Zero told her as though it were common knowledge. Liu nodded in agreement.

Sonya looked at Rayden in supplication. "Please don't tell me _you_ follow this damn code, too, Rayden," she begged.

"Me?" the Thunder God scoffed. "I'm a god, I'm above all that nonsense."

"Thank the Lord," Sonya sighed.

"But Jax _is_ toeing over the line, what with him dating one of his own friend's sisters–"

"Men are hopeless!" Sonya threw up her hands and turned away from them.

"I have to agree with Sonya," Kitana nodded. "You are all adults, you should be able to put this aside and settle this like grown men."

"Thank you, Kitana."

"You're welcome, Sonya."

"But this does not redeem your actions."

"_Damn_."

Staring at Kitana, the men were about to question her foul language when Stryker entered the room, slumping onto the couch where Jax, Liu, Kitana, and Nightwolf were seated. As the couch was made for only four people, Jax had to get up in order to give Stryker the space he needed for sitting. "You okay, Stryker?" the Major asked, taking in his pallid complexion. "You're looking a little pale."

Stryker looked up, seemingly brought back down to earth with the Major's words. "Fine, I guess," he mumbled.

"How did the hearing go?" Nightwolf wanted to know.

Stryker stared off into space for a moment longer before shrugging helplessly. "I am three million, five hundred thousand dollars and sixty-nine cents and one horrendously-ugly-afghan-that-defies-all-fashion-rules-that-even-_she_-didn't-want richer than I was two hours ago."

It took a minute for everyone to understand what he just said. When they did, they couldn't believe it. "You are joking, right?" Liu laughed nervously.

"No," Stryker shook his head and took out a check. Sure enough, written in bold numbering was $3,500,000.69 in the little square. "The afghan is still in her room, I'm waiting til the last minute to get it."

The group stared at the check, and the silence was broken by Sonya's whistle. "I'm starting to like being married to Stryker," she chirped.

"I'm sure you do," Stryker retorted. He wisely chose not to mention the rumors his mother had been whispering around about their 'marriage' (She now had him as the next Bill Gates, with technical skills to rival the Microsoft giant and would be attending the marriage of their youngest child—their fifteenth, not including those they had adopted—to a wealthy prince of England next month). He looked back down at the check. "What the hell am I supposed to do with three and a half million dollars?"

"Do you honestly need an answer to that?" Jax asked.

"I can't believe she gave you all her money," Nightwolf said. "I thought you said you hate each other."

"We did. She just liked me more because I didn't treat her nicely. And she didn't give me all her money."

"She didn't?" Rayden questioned.

"No. Apparently selling the corpses of animals is a lot more profitable than I thought. I only got two-thirds of her fortune."

"What happened to the other third?" Sub-Zero frowned.

"Went to animal charities."

"_Animal _charities!" everyone chorused.

"Animal charities," Stryker confirmed with a nod.

"Your great-aunt is a strange woman," Kitana stated after a moment of contemplation. No one disagreed with her, except:

"Was. She _was_ a strange woman." At their questioning looks Stryker elaborated, "Just found out she died. She had wanted in on the will-reading, but when they refused to carry her out of the bed she had a fit and finally kicked the bucket. Screamed like a damn mountain lion until the end, apparently."

"Terrible," Rayden shook his head. Then he smiled at Stryker. "Say, Stryker, were you by any chance thinking about giving some of that to your old friends?"

Stryker eyed the god critically. "You can make your own money, Rayden. What the hell do you want with mine?"

"Oh. I forgot." Rayden conjured up some bills and smiled happily.

"What about us?" Liu demanded. "We can't make money."

"Hey, back off, I'm his wife," Sonya growled. "I get first dibs."

Stryker sighed as his friends began bickering between themselves over his financial inheritance. Today was most definitely a bad day.

A loud honking brought their attention to outside, and everyone attending the hearing went outside to investigate. A rusty old truck was slowly wheeling its way out of the garage, and even from the distance the people could identify the occupants of the vehicle. Sara sat in the driver's seat, while two identical twins–Sonya assumed that they were Madison and Meredith–sat in the other seats.

"What the hell are they doing?" Stryker frowned, and he stepped off the porch.

What Stryker didn't know was that his youngest sister was hardly a skilled driver. He was informed quite effectively when she stepped on the gas pedal and the car rammed into him, sending him flying ten feet into a rhododendron bush.

Everyone flinched and peeked from behind their hands or arms. The Defenders did more than that, twisting their wrists so they could check their watches. "Two hours, thirty-one minutes and–if I'm not mistaken–seventeen seconds," Nightwolf whistled. "Sonya wins."

The Lieutenant smiled. _First I'm made the wife of a millionaire, and now I've won a bet worth $300. Today was most definitely a good day. Thank God for Aunt Lucy and her ESP._

_Now if I can only get her to stop telling Mom and Dad whenever I meet someone new. . . ._


	11. Street Fighter, Deer Ice Cream, and a Ne

A slightly different fare for this chapter; if you can't see it before the first divider, then maybe I haven't succeeded in being eccentric. As far as I know, the only thing I really 'own' is the concept of deer ice cream; everything else (MK, Street Fighter, Inspector Gadget, etc.) does not belong to me.

And wow, Ferri-Berri andKawai-Kitsuun! I think I'll take the hint and try to update just a little more frequently. But your reviews lead me to my next point:

I am opening the suggestion box to you readers. Give me ideas/situations/awkwardness to inflict-er, write about. Drop me a line via reviews, PMs, or my livejournal (see the profile for the link) and at some point in the future (not the _immediate_ future, mind you) you could very well see it here.

Due to policies, a segment of AICC would cost me the story or my account here, were the worst to happen. So, rather than tempt fate, I'll find a way to post it on livejournal and you can read it there. This will happen sometime between 4/12/06 to 4/21/06.

_**

* * *

Street Fighter, Deer Ice Cream, and a New Pet**_

Kiva eyed the newcomer, watching as it surveyed his territory and investigated the nooks and crannies he had claimed as his. As it began wandering towards him, Kiva growled a warning.

Nonetheless, it kept coming. Closer, closer. . . .

"Meow," the thing purred, rubbing against his snout.

Kiva barked and rose, slinking to his human. Nuzzling his human's palm, he searched for comfort.

"Hey, Kiva, what's the matter? Afraid of the little kitty? Don't worry, the kitty won't be here too long."

Kiva twisted his head at the sound of another human entering his domain. A quick sniff informed him that it was the farm-pup with the bad-tasting boots.

"Nidewolf, we need to ged dat–ACHOO!–cat outta here! It's making my allergies worse!"

Happy that one of the humans were seeing things his way, Kiva yipped his agreement.

"Stryker, we can't get rid of the cat. It's Sonya's, remember?"

"And thince when did I ever care if it's Thonya's? My health is at stake!"

_And my territory_! Kiva barked. His human wasn't listening to him, however.

"Stryker, I gave you an allergy pill, it's not the cat's or Sonya's fault you haven't taken it."

"I refuse any pills that are green in color. It's justh not right."

"You eat green M&M's."

"_Dat_ is _com_–ACHOO!–_pletely_ different."

Kiva sighed, lumbering to his corner and flopping onto his stomach to sulk. None of the humans were paying attention to him anymore, not even his human. Not since that furry little thing came along.

_This is **my** territory and it is invading it,_ Kiva narrowed his eyes at the furry pest. _I would eat it myself, but the blonde would throw a fit bigger than the farm-pup when I chew his boots._

His fur stood on end as the invading creature came closer to him. That thing was dangerous, and if Kiva wasn't careful he'd find himself eaten.

The creature came to stand a foot in front of him, tilting its head this way and that while mewing. Kiva sniffed. _Yes, this thing is a very dangerous creature._

The thing crept closer, mewing louder and louder. Kiva rose to his feet, attempting to intimidate the tiny thing. He had no such luck.

_I must defend my territory._ With that settled, Kiva growled and snapped his teeth at the offensive creature.

"Meow!" The demon cried again, eyes flashing as it lifted a paw. Four tiny claws peeped out and slashed at Kiva.

He danced away from the dangerous paw and clamped his jaw around the only member he could safely reach: the demon's sorry excuse for a tail.

The thing screeched loudly, nearly deafening Kiva. But he had to protect his humans and his territory. . .  
"Kiva! Stop that!" Hands gripped his jaws and pried them apart, forcing him to release the demon. He whimpered as his human slapped his muzzle, berating him for bad behavior. The furry devil scampered away and, to Kiva's indignity, snuggled onto _his_ blankets. He lowered his head and growled deeply, but stopped as a hand cuffed his ear.

"If you don't start behaving better, I'll put you in Stryker's room to sleep!"

"Hey!" Farm-Pup cried indignantly. "Who said anyding about using my room as a time-out corner?"

As the two humans bickered, Kiva turned to eye the demon. It lay on _his_ blankets, comfortable and relaxed.

Then it opened its eyes, and Kiva swore the demon grinned wickedly.

_This is bad. That demon is mingling with my humans, and it has brainwashed them. I have to find a way to get rid of it._

Looking to the humans, Kiva sighed. _Whatever I choose to do, this is not the place to wage battle. I have to find someplace secluded._

Shooting one last venom-filled glare at the demon, Kiva slunk out of the room.

------

Kiva thumped his tail happily, awaiting his dinner. This was his favorite time of day, the time that he could eat to his heart's content whatever he pleased. His human was good in that aspect.

_Deer,_ Kiva decided. _Deer with a little of that hot liquid stuff Muscles calls Tabasco. And of course milk._

Shuddering as he remembered his run-in earlier that month with something Farm-Pup called 'white wine,' Kiva turned his head and thumped his tail again, this time impatiently. Where was his human?

His answer came through the door with the demon in tow, the humans crowded around it with the exception of Farm-Pup. He veered far from the demon as he could, and when the thing was brought to the table he stood at the counter, miserable.

Fearful for his meal, Kiva went up to his human and pawed at the leg. When he received his attention (which, Kiva noted sourly, took a half-second longer than usual) he barked and circled twice, the motion they used for food.

"Okay, Kiva, in a second." His human returned to the cat.

Kiva sat, dismayed. He had never been put on hold by his human. And now this. . . _monster_ not only won the human's hearts, it also took his place!

He whimpered, slinking back to his spot and lying down pathetically. He wanted his food. He wanted his deer. He wanted his human back.

He wanted that monster gone!

But mostly he wanted his food.

Just as Kiva rose to sulk elsewhere a bowl was laid in front of him. Odd balls of the substance Kiva often heard the humans refer to as 'Ice Cream' rested in the bowl. Sniffing it, Kiva could detect the fragrance of. . . deer!

Lifting his head, Kiva closed his eyes as Farm-Pup's hand scratched his ears. _How in the world humans find the right spot to scratch in one try is a mystery_. "Figured you at least would like something to eat. Nidewolf was saving this for a speshal occasion, but you theemed bummed."

Kiva only comprehended parts of his speech, but understood the gist of it all. He gave the ice cream an experimental lick after Farm-Pup was done scratching, and was delighted to find that it tasted like deer. _Perhaps this is why the humans cry and wail whenever they no longer have their substance. Who can ever live without deer_?

He made it through half of his meal when a sound reached his ears. Twitching them, he located the noisemaker and growled, flattening his ears to his head. The monster was trying to steal his meal!

_My territory is one thing, monster. I will find a way to take that back. My food, however, is an entirely different matter._

He lunged and snapped his jaws. The monster, screeching loudly once more, fled to where he belonged.

Or so Kiva wished.

"Kiva, stop that! Be nicer, it's trying to make friends with you!" His human placed the monster in front of him.

The monster jauntily trotted up to Kiva, and he allowed it to do so. But when it made a move towards his dinner he barked and snapped again. The monster did the smart thing and scampered away.

"Nidewolf, leave your mutt alone, for god's thakes. Can't you sthee he's trying to eat?"

Kiva barked an agreement with Farm-Pup. _My food, my territory._

"_You_ are defending Kiva, Stryker?" Blonde asked. Her voice held a note that sounded skeptical to Kiva.

"No one else sthees that thing for what it really is!"

"A cat?" Muscles retorted.

"Very funny, Jax. I mean dat it's the Devil's reincarnation!"

Kiva barked. _I have no idea what Farm-Pup just said, but it sounds in my favor._

"Stryker, Fluffy is not the Devil's reincarnation," Blonde frowned, lifting up the monster into her arms. The thing mewed.

_Fluffy. That is the name of my nemesis. It sounds monstrous enough._

"**_Fluffy_**? You named dat. . . **_thing_** Fluffy? I've seen sharks more deserving of dat name dan him!"

"It's a girl, not a boy," Blonde snapped.

"All the better, then! Who names their cats Fluffy anymore anyhow? Don't answer that!" Farm Pup yelled as the other humans opened their mouths. They obediently closed them.

Kiva sighed. _I will not be eating in peace here_. So he took his bowl and slid it out of the room. From the arguments still resounding behind him, no one had noticed his departure.

Except for the monster Fluffy.

Kiva twirled as he howled, turning his head to chomp the monster in two. It proved difficult to obtain, however, while it held onto his tail with its minuscule teeth.

Kiva did not know how long they twisted in an obscene circle, the monster on his tail and him chasing its tail, but he found himself released by his human and Blonde, the woman cooing to her monster and telling it what a bad idea grabbing his tail was.

_As Farm-Pup puts things, 'Understatement of the year'._

"Are you okay, Kiva?" his human asked, checking his tail. Happy that he now had his human's attention, Kiva only whined and tried to lick the unhurt appendage.

"Nightwolf, I think a few of her teeth are loose. Could you check?"

"Sure," his human petted him before rising to check the monster. Kiva watched him walk away, indignant. _What am I? Chopped gullets?_

"Did you sthee dat thing?" Farm-Pup demanded. "He attacked Kiva!"

"Fluffy's a girl!" Blonde yelled.

"I think Stryker has that point," Winter murmured. "Kiva was minding his own business when your cat bit him."

"She was just trying to play."

"For crying out loud, Thonya, you're in denial! Dat cat is a menace to the base—no, the country—no, the entire _Realm_!"

"_Now_ Stryker is going a little over the top," Violet added. "Maybe it will be better if we keep the two separated, just until they're both comfortable with living here."

_I **am** comfortable living here! It is that devil-bred Fluffy that needs to go!_

The humans paid no attention to his input. They yelled for a minute or two more before Kiva sighed and returned to shoving his bowl of deer-flavored ice cream down the hall. _Humans. The most insensible creatures walking on this earth._

------

Kiva wandered into the large room his human often called the 'rec room,' curious as to what Farm-Pup and Alpha Male were clamoring about. His search to destroy his nemesis Fluffy had turned up fruitless, the past week a living nightmare for poor Kiva.

Kiva found to his confusion the two sitting on the floor like human children, slamming their paws on oddly-shaped things. The big square in front of them moved and flashed with blinding colors. Loud noises such as grunts and peculiar screams came from the big square.

"Dammit, Liu!" Farm-Pup slammed his oddity down on the ground. "You're sthupposed to be a monk! How can you play video games stho well?"

"It's not that hard, Stryker," Alpha Male replied calmly. "All you do is press buttons."

Kiva came up behind the two. The big square flashed the words _Street Fighter_.

"I know it's not dat hard! I kick Nightwolf's ass at this game all the time! Dat doesn't explain how you can play it better dan me!"

"Care to play again, then?" Alpha Male asked mockingly. "I'll try and take it easy on you this time."

"Some monk you are," Farm-Pup grumbled. "I dought you are sthupposed to be considerate and all dat crap."

"Monks are supposed to be honest and helpful. Whether or not consideration is a part of honesty or helpfulness is debatable."

Farm-Pup glared at Alpha Male. Kiva shook his head. _Human hierarchy is so disorderly. Lesser males challenging alpha males, and fighting over a big, flashy square. How in the world did humans come into control of the forests and the skies?_

_Probably because they invented ice cream. Yes, that is the only reasonable solution that comes to mind. I wonder where I can get more?_

Alpha Male stood and stretched. "I have to go and stretch my legs. Why not play against Kiva, and work on your strategy." He left the room laughing.

"Very funny," Farm-Pup muttered, pushing buttons on his oddity. "Let's see how funny he dinks it is when he finds his fighter wiped out."

_I wonder why humans are so drawn to this square,_ Kiva thought to himself. _It does not smell like anything. Nor does it make any threats—_

"Dammit! Do the finishing move!"

—_Except, apparently, to Farm-Pup._

The wolf sniffed the odd-shaped thing, finding nothing except the faint scent of human sweat and, frighteningly enough, old human blood. Tilting his head, Kiva laid a paw on the odd thing and felt several parts of it shift downward.

The square exploded in color, and the green monster exploded in blue and white sparkly things that touched upon another humanoid form. The second form fell to the ground and stayed there as the words _Blanka Wins_ flashed on the square.

Farm-Pup turned and stared at Kiva, who returned his stare equally. Then Farm-Pup shook his head and muttered, "Dat did not just happen. Dat did not just happen. Dat did not just happen."

Even more confused, Kiva walked away, wondering to himself, _Why is it that humans believe themselves to be the most intelligent creatures on this planet_?

------

Kiva wandered the base, keeping an eye out for his human while thinking over his situation. The nemesis known as Fluffy refused to leave him alone, catching him off-guard sometimes and using his back as a scratching post.

Not nearly the most wonderful feeling Kiva had ever experienced.

_I need to rid the world of that pesky little beast, and soon. If I wait much longer, Fluffy will brainwash all of the humans completely, including Farm-Pup._

Claws dug into his tail unexpectedly, and with a loud bark Kiva dashed in a circle, clamping his teeth on a member. A screeching yowl would have made the wolf grin, but the pain in his tail insisted to be tended first.

Stopping abruptly, Kiva wrenched his muzzle one way while yanking his tail another. His tail protested the rough treatment, but the claws did lose grip on the innocent limb.

Opening his jaw, Kiva tossed Fluffy away and lowered his head, baring his teeth and growling a warning.  
Fluffy paid no mind to the caution, advancing slowly and menacingly. The creature's tail rose straight up as well as the fur, and the beast continually throttled out a squall.

Kiva laid his ears against his head, trying to find some way to defeat his nemesis. A low rumble made him sneak a glance behind him.

A hole in the ground slowly opened, and something unfolded above the hole. Things fell through the higher hole into the lower one, creating a stench in the enclosed room.

_Here is my chance._

Turning to face the beast, Kiva barked and howled his challenge, hoping Fluffy would act like other sensible creatures and answer it. To his pleasure, Fluffy did. The beast leapt into the air, claws outstretched, caterwauling a horrible cry.

Kiva waited until the beast could not redirect his fall before scampering out of the way, leaving the beast to fall into the garbage pit with a woeful meow. Leaping, Kiva slammed his weight on the doors and closed them quicker than the slow creep it went.

_I did it! The beast is gone, it is no more_!

Satisfied, Kiva held his head high and turned to leave.

That was when he saw Farm-Pup standing at the end of the hall, staring at Kiva strangely.

_Oh no. Farm-Pup saw what I did. He will tell Blonde what happened, and then have me removed from the base!_ Kiva whimpered and lowered his head, trying to look appeasing to the human.

Blonde appeared in the hall next to Farm-Pup and asked worriedly, "Stryker, did you find her yet?"

Farm-Pup gazed at Kiva for another minute before looking to Blonde and saying, "Sthorry, Thonya. No cat here."

Blonde sighed before moving on. Farm-Pup returned his gaze to Kiva, and made a 'Come Here' motion.

_Now what?_ Kiva trotted forward and was greeted with a warm pet.

"I don't know_ how_ in God's name you beat me at Street Fighter, but you got rid of dat nasthy cat for me. I have to say dat thisth shelebration calls for thome ith cream."

Kiva moved his ears forward. _Ice cream? Now I know for certain how humans dominated the planet._

------

Down below, in the sewers of the base, one little paw raised out of the sewage and clasped the cement, attempting to drag itself clear from the muck.

A creepy voice growled, "Next time, Gadget. _Next time_."

But that is a story for another day.


	12. Cameos, an Ice Cream Chase, and Driving

I apologize deeply for the delay; my friend and roommate's computer staged a protest and has been in the shop since Monday. She still doesn't get it til Thursday, and this was the soonest I could get back on the computer without feeling guilty for kicking her off.

Also, if you don't check the profile even from the summary's prompting, there is a 'hidden' chapter of sorts for this story, considering the site's policy regarding story formats. I was experimenting a little, so it's different from the norm. You will have to go to my profile for the direct link, since links don't work in stories.

Guest appearances galore in this part from Buffy: the Vampire Slayer; Charmed; The A-Team; Stargate: SG-1; The War Next Door; and Highlander. All the shows belong to their respective owners, so for your sakes (unless you want college and senior-year related bills) don't sue. And I don't know the exact day Burt Baskin actually died, but if you do know, you can correct me. Also, I am not a hockey person. I know Calgary and New York are in different conferences, and they would probably only face each other once in fifty tournaments, but let's all just pretend fate destined them to face off in this chapter. Also, for those who don't know what The War Next Door is (as many might not), Kennedy Smith is played by...Linden Ashby. You can connect the dots.

* * *

**_Cameos, an Ice Cream Chase, and Driving Lessons_**

"Rayden!" Sonya stormed into the recreation room, looking quite peeved. "You haven't replenished the ice cream yet!"

All action in the room ceased. Liu and Sub-Zero froze in mid-kick, horrified at the words the Lieutenant spouted. Jax stopped hammering away at his new hobby (an oddly deformed bird-house), disbelieving. Nightwolf and Kitana looked up from their fourth game of Monopoly (the original edition), shock evident on their faces. And Stryker. . . . .

The previous observation was incorrect. All action in the room ceased _except_ on the couch. Stryker watched his Rangers game ardently, blind and deaf to anything outside his world. It was obvious by Stryker's loud cheers that the Rangers were winning. To get his attention (and stop the stupid arm-waving) Jax threw a nail at him. Stryker turned around, agitated. "What?"

"The ice cream's gone!"

Stryker blinked, said, "Oh," and turned back to his game. There he sat for five whole seconds before leaping and screaming, "_What!_"

"Yes!" Sonya nodded vehemently, then turned to the Protector of Earth Realm that tried to tiptoe out. "Hold it right there, Thunder God!"

He flinched, berating himself for not teleporting. "I was busy!"

"So busy that you couldn't get any ice cream?" Liu gasped. "Shame on you."

Rayden whimpered. "Being Protector is not all ice cream-eating and kicking butt. I actually have to do paperwork once in a while."

"Well, go get the ice cream now!" Stryker exclaimed, leaping over the back of the couch. "We can't go a day without ice cream!"

Scowling, Rayden replied, "Why do _I_ always have to get it? You guys aren't doing anything mind-boggling, _you_ go get it."

The fighters looked between themselves. "Alright," Liu nodded firmly. "We'll do it."

"It's just a trip for ice cream," Sub-Zero agreed. "Not difficult."

"Not at all," Kitana smiled.

"It'll be good to get out of the base," Nightwolf remarked.

"Sort of like a road trip," Sonya admitted.

Jax gazed longingly at his mutilated bird house, but in the end consented. "I need more nails anyway."

The group looked at Stryker expectantly. He paled, looking between them and his Rangers game. "But- but- _now_? The Rangers are on. . . ."

"What's more important?" Sub-Zero scolded. "Ice cream or hockey?"

Stryker grew teary-eyed. "But. . . hockey. . . ."

"Let's go, Stryker," Jax and Sonya grabbed either arm and hauled him bodily away, ignoring his woeful cries of "_Hockey_!"

Rayden watched them go, feeling the awkward sensation that regularly and accurately foretold danger and mayhem. "It's a road trip, like they said," Rayden scoffed at himself. "It's not the end of the world."

------

"Sold out?" Liu gaped at the store-owner. "What do you mean, sold out?"

"We just sold our last _Pineapple Coconut_ pint," the salesman shrugged, pointing to the kid that hurried away, snarling and snapping his teeth at any passerby. One man old enough to be the boy's great-grandfather even received a nasty bite when he got suspiciously close to the boy. "You have to wait two weeks until we get our shipment in."

"Two weeks?" Sonya stalked up, frowning. "Why two weeks?"

The salesman sighed. "To be blunt, our truck driver is insane. The factory is five miles south on I-5. The driver has it in his head he needs to go through all forty-eight contiguous states before he can get here. So, we usually order ahead of time. Unfortunately, we didn't keep track of our supplies and now we have to wait for him to get back."

"So the factory is five miles south on I-5?" Jax brightened. "We can just make a trip down there–"

"It's closed," the salesman interrupted.

"Closed?" they started. "Why closed?"

The salesman pointed to a calendar. August 16 was circled, starred, brilliantly colored, and overall made noticeable. "It's the 36th anniversary of Burt Baskin's death. All employees have a two-week vacation in order to pay homage at their shrines and temples for the death of the great man. Mine starts this afternoon" The salesman's eyes glazed with hero-worship.

"Oh," they sighed, trooping out of the empty store.

Jax thought, then asked, "Why don't we get some Ben & Jerry's? They aren't closed."

Everyone turned and scowled at him. The Major wisely decided to stay quiet.

Stryker looked about, then said anxiously, "Since we can't get ice cream, I suppose we'll just have to get back to the base and watch the rest of the Rangers game. I mean, it's not like we can chase the truck all over the States."

The Captain knew he had said the wrong thing. Everyone's eyes lit up and Nightwolf said hurriedly, "Why not? We have the Jets, they're the fastest things around! We'll catch up to that guy and get our ice cream!"

Stricken with purpose, the six marched off. Stryker lagged behind, mourning his beloved New York Rangers hockey game.

------

It seemed as though Stryker would be getting back to his hockey game sooner than he thought.

They had ignited the Dragon Jets and prepared to take off, but a red light flashed 'TECHNICAL ERROR' and the Jets refused to lift. No amount of coaxing, examining, or kicking from the group could fix the problem.

The group was ready to admit defeat, and Stryker happily contemplated his hockey game, even if he had no _NY French Vanilla_ to celebrate their imminent victory. But then Kitana made a discovery, and consequently made herself Stryker's second least-favorite person on the team (the first least-favorite being permanently given to one Sonya Blade).

The convertible they had used while on their trip in Las Vegas shone in the back of a Jet in all its yellow glory. When Jax turned on the engine and watched the arrow rise in the gas tank, he shouted in glee. The tank was completely full.

So everyone piled into the convertible and they rambled onto the freeway, searching for the errant Baskin Robbins truck.

------

Stryker didn't mind road trips. Stryker didn't mind stuffed convertibles. Hell, even though he was missing his team's game, he didn't mind this escapade to find their ice cream.

What he _did_ mind was having his life unreasonably threatened.

"_RIGHT, RIGHT! TURN **RIGHT**!_" Stryker screamed, reaching over and yanking the wheel hard right.

The car swerved, narrowly missing a collision with a nicely-painted red SUV. Stryker straightened the wheel before he rammed them into the car on the other side, breathing heavily.

Jax had complained about being given driving duty all the time, so Sonya suggested they each drove in turns. Liu, Sub-Zero, Nightwolf, and Kitana pointed out a problem with that. The former three had never received formal lessons in the fine art before, and Edenia lacked the cars (much less the pavement) to incorporate such modes of travel. So Jax, Sonya, and a begrudging Stryker offered to teach them how to drive.

This was the mistake that made Stryker wish he had updated his will to _not_ include his present company, especially considering one of the unlearned four was bound to be the adult responsible for his untimely (and rather ironic) death.

_'New York law officer killed in vehicular accident,' rather than 'Bludgeoned to death by crack gangs_,' Stryker whimpered mentally. _Not quite the heroic death I envisioned_.

Liu was the first to try his hand at steering, and by some horrible twist of fate Stryker found himself teaching the man. Kitana sat on Stryker's right, watching Liu closely in the hopes of avoiding the same mistakes as the Champion.

Stryker prayed she was a good visual learner.

After that incident, Liu managed to keep the wheel straight and his speed at an even sixty mph. By some miracle the truck was located within five minutes of the start of the endeavor, so their attention could be focused on staying alive rather than finding it. No one had mentioned how exactly they were to obtain their ice cream, so they continued to stalk it passively.

The truck exited the freeway and drove into a small town. They passed a 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign that had been knocked down by either a drunk driver or one with a twisted sense of humor.

"Quiet town," Sonya observed as they rattled along behind the truck.

"Hmm, Sunnydale," Nightwolf pulled out his laptop and researched it. "Not much of a town. Decent-sized population, and. . . wow, one heck of a death rate."

"Not reassuring, Nightwolf," Jax told the man.

"Look at this," the Indian frowned at the screen. "Most common cause of death: PCP gang-related incidents."

Stryker snorted. Sounded like a night in New York City. "Real interesting, Nightwo– Liu, slow down, it's thirty-five, not seventy."

The man obediently slowed. Oddly, the truck stayed exactly the same distance ahead.

"This town is eerie," Sub-Zero commented from his seat, looking around suspiciously. "I have a bad feeling about it."

"Keep your eyes on the goal, Sub," Sonya told him, though deep down she had that feeling, too. The feeling that told her soon, very soon, they would be meeting up with some very dangerous types.

------

Somewhere in the quiet, peaceful, loving, and overall _Utopian_ town of Sunnydale, California, affectionately known to a select few as Sunnyhell, panic had struck its heroine.

"_Giles! **Giles!**_ We've got big trouble!" Buffy Summers raced into her living room, finding her ex-Watcher, Wiccan friend, normal friend, and younger sister sitting around the coffee table playing Scrabble.

"What sort of trouble?" Giles looked up, concerned. He had never seen his Slayer this horror-stricken.

"Ooh, is it werewolves?" Willow inquired.

"Is it vampires with souls?" Xander grumbled.

"Is it your science teacher?" Dawn snickered.

"No, no, and I _do_ know where you sleep at night," Buffy growled. "We don't have any ice cream left!"

Gasps filled the room. "What do we do?" Willow wailed. "The stores are all closed! We can't have a Scooby night without ice cream!"

"Stay calm," Giles told her. "There's nothing we can do if we panic."

"Ice cream truck!" Dawn jumped up from her seat, pointing out the window. "There goes an ice cream truck!"

Without further ado the five leapt up and ran outside. They had no hopes of catching up to the truck, however, and it easily outstripped them. They thought all hope was lost when the Defenders' convertible pulled up beside them.

"I would ask if you need a lift," Jax told them pityingly. "But the car can't hold any more people."

Their faces fell. They didn't know who these people were, but they were their last chance at getting any ice cream. Giles' car would never be able to get to the end of the driveway. Then Willow brightened and muttered a few words.

The car expanded and the seats widened, making the Defenders yelp. In the end, the car had a new third-row seat that would fit the Scoobies.

"So, do we have names for you guys?" Sonya asked as they piled in.

They all introduced themselves as Liu exchanged seats with Kitana, Stryker emphatically declaring he would not allow him to drive anymore. Dawn grinned, asking, "Ooh, can I drive?"

The answer she received were resounding 'No!'s.

But . . . everyone knows teenagers and their resolve.

------

A time later, the busy San Francisco streets carried on, oblivious to the terror swallowing its protectors whole.

"Prue! Piper!" Phoebe Halliwell raced into the kitchen of the Halliwell Manor, panicked.

Her two sisters looked up from their soup concoction, the elder witch brushing hair from her eyes. "What is it, Phoebe?" Prue asked tiredly.

"Yeah, where's the warlock?" Piper raised a brow.

Phoebe took several deep breaths to fill her lungs, panting out, "Ice . . . cream . . . gone!"

The other two pairs of eyes widened. "No!" Piper gasped in disbelief.

"Yes!" Phoebe nodded frantically. "There's no ice cream in the freezer!"

"What about–" Prue began.

"Not there either! And there's none in Gram's ultra-secret cabinet that no one is supposed to know about," Phoebe added before Piper could ask.

"Drat," Piper smacked a fist on the tabletop. "That cabinet's supposed to have everything a witch needs, the advertisement said so."

Prue snatched up her purse and headed out the door, face set determinedly. "C'mon, we've got to get to the stores before they close."

"But your car's in the shop!" Phoebe prompted her. "Remember: big demon, your powers, massively huge collision?"

Wincing, Prue chastised, "Don't remind me. The mechanic spent twenty minutes asking me what the hell caused the big yellow stain on my interior. But enough of that, we need to get to the store."

Phoebe swayed in the middle of the sidewalk, holding out her hand for support. Her two sisters granted it quickly as the premonition passed. "Ice cream truck and a car coming this way," she said, pointing down the street behind them.

Piper searched the street. "I don't see anything."

As she finished the ice cream truck hurtled into view, roaring along at fifty in a thirty-five zone. A convertible followed it, the teenager in the seat yelling, "Whee!" as the adults hollered, "_Stop_!" Phoebe could swear on her mother's grave that another voice belonging to a man cried, "I want my hockey!"

"Piper, freeze that car!" Prue yelled.

The witch employed her power, and sure enough the car stopped. The ice cream truck rumbled on.

The Charmed Ones hurried over and examined the car. Frowning slightly, Prue used her telekinetic power to move the ecstatic teenager from the driver's seat and placed her in the back.

"Now what do we do?" Piper asked. "Soon as the car unfreezes it'll be going at," she checked the speedometer, "fifty-five mph with no driver."

"I'll drive!" Phoebe jumped into the seat, buckling herself in.

Piper looked to her older sibling, who shrugged and fit herself in near the back. With a sigh and a murmured, "Leo is gonna _kill_ me," Piper followed suit. She unfroze the car.

Screams filled the car as it leapt forward, and Phoebe hurriedly applied the brake so it shrieked to a halt. The occupants screamed until they realized they had stopped, and then noticed Dawn was no longer behind the wheel. They also became aware of the three extra women they picked up without stopping.

"Er, magic?" Phoebe shrugged nervously.

Willow perked up and cried, "Ooh, you can do magic? I'm a Wiccan myself!"

"Hey," Dawn pouted. "I was driving."

"Not anymore!" Stryker exclaimed. "You stay back there! In fact, Sonya, you're switching me seats! I'm not teaching anyone how to drive anymore."

Sonya looked alarmed. She had obviously not intended to teach anyone while Stryker was still conscious. "Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Do they do this often?" Giles asked Jax, watching the argument in disbelief.

"Huh?" Jax realized what Giles meant, and said, "Oh, that. Hell, I barely notice anymore. It's when they start throwing lettuce heads and boxes and ducks that you acknowledge it—the duck thing is a long story for a different time," Jax added, interpreting Giles' funny look.

"No, no, no, and for the last time, NO!" Stryker yelled, oblivious to Jax's commentary on his and Sonya's argumentative habits. "I am not teaching anymore and you can't make me!"

Sonya furrowed her brows. That sounded suspiciously like a challenge.

And she _never_ lost challenges.

------

Los Angeles bustled and hummed as per the norm, belying the negative atmosphere that was soon to arise from its four gun-wielding, ingenious, pretty, strong, and insane inhabitants.

"Murdock, could you hand me a _Pistachio Almond_ pint?" Lieutenant Templeton Peck, a.k.a. Face, asked of the pilot.

The man looked up with a grin. "Alright, and Billy would like some too, don'tcha?" Captain H.M. Murdock stroked his 'invisible' pet.

"Yo, man, don't you go and waste our ice cream on your imaginary dog, Murdock," the driver, Sergeant B.A. Baracus, growled.

"Now, B.A.," Murdock reprimanded in his laid-back way as he reached over for the ice-cooler, "Don't hurt Billy's feelings, he's _very_ sensitive."

"Shoulda left him in the V.A., Hannibal," B.A. muttered as he shook his head.

The last man of the group, Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, chuckled and asked Murdock, "Get me a pint, too, Captain."

"Yessir!" Murdock fished around the cooler, stopped, and fished some more. He sat back in his chair with a horrified expression. "Hannibal, the ice cream's gone!"

The van lurched to a stop. B.A. turned around, ignoring all the honking outside. Face joined the large man in exclaiming, "_What_?"

Hannibal merely frowned around his ever-present cigar and said, "That won't do. Face, weren't you supposed to restock our ice cream supply?"

Face stared back at his C.O., stammering, "I don't remember that."

"No, I remember," Murdock frowned. "Hannibal was tellin' you to get it while you were chattin' up the gal back in Sacra–" He drifted off as Face gave him a dirty look.

Hannibal sighed. This wouldn't do at all. "We'll have to find a store and stock up on ice cream, then."

"Hannibal, there ain't no stores open today," B.A. scowled. "It's August 16, remember?"

The other three men sighed in despair. "What do we do, Hannibal?" Murdock moaned. "Billy can't wait too long for his ice cream."

B.A. finally relented to the other drivers and pulled over properly, shutting off his engine half-heartedly. That was when the Baskin Robbins ice cream truck zoomed past. Hannibal, always quick on his feet, ordered B.A., "Follow that truck!"

Not needing any more encouragement, B.A. ignited his engine and pulled into traffic. They followed the truck onto a deserted highway, where the only vehicles traveling on it were the truck, the van, and a convertible stuffed with people.

And if Face wasn't falling under Murdock's spell and becoming insane along with the ace pilot, he swore he heard terrified screaming.

"Slow down, slow down, you're gonna kill us all!"

"Put Dawn back behind the wheel, she was safer!"

"Put someone who can _legally drive_ behind the wheel!"

"Hey! I can, too, legally drive!" (Face assumed that was the driver).

"_I want my hockey_!"

"Hannibal, what's all that yelling?" Murdock inquired.

"Looks like we aren't the only ones chasing the truck," the Colonel replied, narrowing his eyes. From what he could see with his limited view, a blonde woman was driving. She looked awfully relaxed, which contrasted greatly with the other occupants of the car.

Interest piqued, Face and Murdock left their seats to look through the tinted back windows. Sure enough, the convertible was there roaring along behind them. It looked almost as though they were having a carnival, the way the people kept rearranging themselves. The people in front, minus the driver, kept trying to get into the back. The people in back kept trying to keep the people up front, well, up front. And the driver was bobbing her head to some sort of music while the car swerved between the two lanes.

"Maybe we should pity them and offer a ride with us," Face suggested.

A higher-pitched scream filled the air. "Buffy, don't hit that van!"

Murdock's eyes opened as wide as hubcaps. "B.A., step on it!"

It was too late. The convertible rear-ended the van; the people in the convertible slammed forward; Face and Murdock flew to the front and crashed into the driver and passenger seats; Hannibal and B.A. jerked ahead. The ice cream truck ambled on, oblivious to its crashed but determined pursuers.

People filed out of their respective vehicles, groaning and complaining about aches. Someone whimpered about hockey. And the blonde responsible for it all smiled sheepishly at the other driver. "Sorry about that."

"You wrecked my van!" B.A. moaned, looking at his rear bumper. "I love my van!"

Prue Halliwell glared at Buffy, pointed to her, and growled, "You. Rear seat. Permanently."

The Slayer had half a mind to argue, but looking at the damages, she had to relent. That, and her sister begged her never to drive again.

Willow examined the damage as well, invoked her goddess Hecate, and repaired the smashed hood and indented bumper. "There, all fixed."

B.A. looked much happier, so Hannibal decided not to ask exactly _how_ it was fixed. "Am I right in guessing you were following the truck as well?"

The group nodded. Jax frowned at the Colonel. "I know you from somewhere."

Hannibal froze. He had recognized Jax and Sonya from military databases the four of them hacked into from time to time, but had hoped the Major and Lieutenant would not recognize the escaped 'criminals' themselves. It seemed that hope might be dashed.

Jax peered at them critically a little longer, then decided to let it slide. They had bigger fish to fry. "It doesn't matter. The important thing is the ice cream. Let's go!"

The chasers divided equally among the two vehicles, but Stryker still got stuck in the passenger seat of the convertible. He was concerned as to who would try their hand at driving next. He honestly didn't think he had any nerves to spare.

The Captain was to learn in the next few hours that fear had no problems exchanging nerves for other forms of payment. More specifically, hair color.

------

Colonel Jack O'Neill was used to many strange phenomena. He went to different planets on a daily basis, mingled with the natives, drank unsavory alcohol, and kicked the occasional alien butt, for crying out loud.

But waking up from an SG-1 all-night party (celebrating the death of yet another evil Goa'uld System Lord–Jack didn't quite remember which one it was) to a freezer devoid of any and all ice cream was just plain wrong.

Given that the alien Jaffa known as Teal'c was ready to rip heads off, it was also cruel and unusual punishment.

And Major Samantha Carter was ready to unleash that legendary feminine temper known as PMS on their heads as well.

Jack didn't know which one was scarier.

Dr. Daniel Jackson was not helping matters. He was drinking his coffee like a lifeline, unconcerned with their plight.

Jack scowled at the archaeologist before settling on his couch. He almost turned on his television when Sam stood in his view. "Aren't you going to do anything, Sir?" she demanded.

"Carter, what do you want me to do?" he asked helplessly. "The stores are all closed. We may as well sit here, drink our coffee, and watch the hockey finals." Jack winced. Last he had heard, New York was winning against his team, Calgary.

"Action is necessary, O'Neill," Teal'c intoned. "We cannot sit here without the ice and cream substance."

"It's just 'ice cream,' Teal'c," Jack said.

"_Just_ ice cream?" Sam stared angrily. "**_Just_** ice cream?"

Wondering why his 2IC was getting so uptight about the sentence, Jack thought it over. Then he realized his blunder. "I was correcting him. You know, instead of 'ice _and_ cream' it's _just_ 'ice cream'? Like that?"

Fuming, Sam let it slide. "Sir, what's the plan of action?"

Eyeing the Jaffa and Major, Jack sighed. It looked like his hockey would have to sit on the back burner. _My hockey . . . ._ "We ride into town, buy us some ice cream, and come back for some hockey. How about that?"

"You're kidding me?" Daniel spoke up at long last. "That's it? We get captured by a Goa'uld System Lord, and you have fifty different ways to blow the ship up, but when it comes to getting ice cream, it's as simple as driving to the store?"

Jack scowled at the man. "Do you have a better idea, Spacemonkey?"

Before the archaeologist could reply, Teal'c interrupted from his place by the window. "Major Carter, a Baskin Robbins truck conveying our current desires is passing this street." Mindless of the Colorado weather, Sam and the Jaffa hurried out to catch the truck. Exchanging looks, Daniel and Jack followed them, the latter missing his hockey game fervently.

They quickly ran to the main road, where the truck was just passing by them at breakneck speed. Just as Teal'c raised his zat to disable the truck, Daniel leapt on his arm and dragged it down, pointing, "There's a convertible and van coming up."

The four turned. Sure enough, a yellow convertible and black GMC van rumbled towards them. The convertible was leading the way by a great length, and they could hear someone screaming, "This is a road, not a bobsled race!"

"They're our only way to catch up to them," Sam groaned, watching the truck fade into the distance.

Quite attached to the Tau'ri substance known as ice cream, Teal'c would do anything to obtain the delicacy. So he stepped out onto the road and raised his hands.

The two vehicles screeched to a stop, the brunette driver of the convertible staring at them wide-eyed. "Are you crazy?" she screeched, flying out of the car. "I could've hit you!"

"NO MORE!" Stryker leapt out of the front seat, backing away from the passenger side as though it had rabies. "Piper took my last straw! There is no way I'm doing it anymore!"

Jax peered at SG-1. "Lemme guess, you want some ice cream, too?"

Sam's eyes lit up. "You'd take us?"

"It'll be a tight fit," Face said from his place, but he looked her up and down with interest. "But I'm sure there's a way to make room."

Teal'c turned to Jack, stoic faced as always. Daniel also turned to him, holding his mug of coffee possessively—

_When did he get that_? Jack frowned.

That question disappeared from his mind when he turned his gaze to Carter. Sam rarely used the puppy-dog face, mostly because she had to maintain the tough-girl look while on duty. But when she took it out. . . the victim was a goner.

The Major decided to unleash it now, quivering lower lip, big teary blue eyes and all.

"Oh, alright," Jack sighed. "We'll go on this damn ice cream hunt. But you guys owe me a hockey game."

Stryker brightened. "You were watching the Rangers versus Calgary game?"

Jack also brightened, believing he had a fellow hockey fanatic. "Yeah. Rangers are winning, though."

The Captain let out a whoop, lowering Jack's opinion of the man. "You root for the Rangers?" Jack asked, disgusted.

Stryker stared. "You don't?"

"Oh great," Sonya rolled her eyes. "Now we're going to be hearing nothing but hockey for the rest of this trip."

------

Kennedy Smith knew about terrible days. He did have an arch-nemesis that refused to die and stay dead as a neighbor, after all. And the wife of his aforementioned arch-nemesis kept trying to ruin his marriage as well.

But this. . . . this was low. So Kennedy sat on the sidewalk by his mailbox, chin resting on his hand and sniffled miserably.

His nemesis Alan Kriegman came up from behind him. Kennedy didn't care if the man had a hatchet in hand, nothing could make this day more horrific.

Kriegman sat beside him, looking the mirror-image of Kennedy: saddened and sulky.

"There's no ice cream at my place," Kriegman said in the voice that normally proclaimed farfetched plans for world domination. "Nor at yours. What is the world coming to? At least Hell is well-stocked for a millennia at a time."

"The world's not perfect, Kriegman," Kennedy sighed. "If it were, I'd be rid of you."

Kriegman did not answer the jibe. "So, what're you gonna do?"

Kennedy blinked. "Huh?"

Just as surprised, Kriegman gasped, "You're not going to do anything?"

Shrugging, Kennedy asked, "What can I do? I'm just a normal human being, Kriegman, not some psycho with the freaky power to rise up from the dead."

Kriegman rolled his eyes before punching the man. "We've had this discussion already! You. Are. Not. Normal. You know twenty-nine ways to kill a guy with a spoon! Okay? That is not normal. Ice cream truck."

Kennedy frowned. "What?"

Kriegman did not need to clarify his answer. The Baskin Robbins truck zoomed past, newspapers flying in its wake. Smiling gleefully, Kriegman rose to pursue it.

"What are you going to do, Kriegman?" Kennedy snorted. "Run after it?"

The super evil genius paused to think. "No. What we need is another car. Hmmmm."

He snapped his fingers in frustration. Just then, B.A.'s truck and the convertible (a disturbingly hyper Daniel at the wheel) drove past, made weird clunking noises, and stopped with their transmissions hanging out their back ends.

Both Wellsville, Ohio, residents stared. Kennedy eyed Kriegman. "Did you do that?"

The evil villain shrugged in confusion. "I don't know. Maybe it's an extension of my super evil powers?"

Kennedy fervently hoped it wasn't. But he had no time for that now. These people seemed to be his only hope for getting ice cream. And away from his kids that kept demanding ice cream. He approached the people as they left their cars, looking over the damage worriedly. B.A. was the most concerned, bending over to look underneath his van. Stryker hurriedly jumped behind bushes and the sounds of retching could be heard over Jack's groans that his gray hair had gone white.

"This sucks," Buffy put her fists on her hips. "Now we'll never catch the truck." She looked squarely at Kriegman. "You're evil. This is your doing."

Kriegman lifted his hands up hurriedly. "No it isn't! I didn't do anything! Right, Kenny old boy?" he slung an arm around Kennedy's shoulders.

Glaring, Kennedy shrugged the arm off. "You tried to steal Lucas away from me. Don't pull that buddy routine with me until you die. Permanently."

"Hey," Sonya frowned at Kennedy. "You look . . . familiar."

Kennedy blinked back. "I do?"

"You ever been in any movies?"

"No . . ."

"Oh . . . never mind, then."

Kriegman looked askance at the group. "Are the cars fixable?"

The Charmed Ones linked hands and chanted, "Two cars broken, two cars fixed, let us be on our way, so mote it be!"

Slowly, the transmissions crept back under the cars and reattached themselves properly. Revving up the engine, B.A. was satisfied that his van was fixed. By then Stryker had crept out from the bushes, looking noticeably paler than at the beginning of the trip. "Can we go home now and watch the hockey game?" he whimpered.

"Soon, Stryker," Sub-Zero assured him. "As soon as we catch that truck."

Stryker sniffled. "I want my hockey."

"We should get going," Giles informed them all, mopping his forehead of sweat. "The truck will get too far ahead of us if we dawdle much longer."

Kennedy frowned, looking down the street. "Actually. . . this is a dead end street. The only way out is back through here."

Everyone paused, thinking through the implications of Kennedy's words. They thought a second too long.

Just as Hannibal began ordering B.A. to block the road, the ice cream truck hurtled past, with "It's the End of the World As We Know It" by REM blaring through the speakers on the top of the cab.

The group watched it pass for a minute, disbelieving their luck. Then they all quickly piled into their vehicles and chased it down.

It was only when Kennedy screamed at Kriegman _not_ to kill them all with his driving that Stryker realized he was in the passenger seat once again, and with a super-genius evil man behind the wheel to boot.

Jack's and Stryker's echoing cries of "_I want my hockey_!" rang throughout the air as Kriegman accelerated from zero to a hundred twenty miles an hour in four seconds.

------

_An Immortal would only be too happy if the Prize was ice cream for eternity_, Connor MacLeod thought with a grin, spooning some of his _Mint Chocolate Chip_.

The elder Highlander sat in his antiques shop, feet propped on the counter while enjoying his dessert. He missed the good times where pollution wasn't a problem, computers didn't exist (he needed to remember to get Methos to fix his infernal laptop) and horses were the main mode of transportation. But ice cream was definitely the best invention since. . . well, since swords.

Connor lifted his head, eyes narrowed. The feeling of Immortals approaching jarred his bones. He snuck a look down at his carton. Finished.

He put down the empty carton and reached for his sword. That was when he discerned two presences, one nearly drowning out the other with his age.

Rolling his eyes, Connor tossed the carton in the trash as the door opened and two voices yelled out, "Hey, Connor!"

"Duncan, Adam," the Highlander greeted amiably, raising a brow. "To what do I owe the unexpected surprise?"

Adam and Duncan traded looks, then the oldest Immortal asked, "We were wondering if you might have any ice cream to share with two of your greatest friends."

Connor rolled his eyes. "Fine, but I'm charging. It's the seventh time this month."

"Now, you wouldn't do that to your long-distant cousin, would you?" Duncan chuckled.

Chuckling with him, Connor bent down to retrieve three cartons.

His freezer had hamburger. It had ice cubes. It even had three-year-old spaghetti. But it did not have ice cream.

The two other Immortals heard Connor's profanity, rushing to see the problem. It was immediately apparent that Connor did not have ice cream.

"Now what do we do?" Adam mourned. "Joe didn't have any either!"

"Nor did Amanda," Duncan sulked.

Connor began pacing his shop, absently flipping his 'Open' sign to 'Closed'. That was when he saw, distantly, a Baskin Robbins ice cream truck speeding their way.

"Let's flag that truck down." Connor snatched his sword as he walked out, ignoring the fact that it was broad daylight and the truck could not be going any slower than fifty miles an hour (in spite of the thirty mph speed limit). Eerily, the entire street was abandoned; New York at this time of the day was usually a tsunami of people.

Duncan and Adam followed him out quickly, following suit. "Burt Baskin," Adam murmured to his friends. "That's why no one's out here. They're all inside giving thanks."

"I'll give thanks, too," Duncan stated. "Just as soon as that truck hands over the goods."

The two other Immortals paused and stared at the third. Duncan shrugged. "Richie's been making me watch Mafia movies the last week," he explained as he raised his sword. The truck was steadily coming closer.

Switching looks, Connor and Adam decided not to pursue the conversation further. Only a mile separated the Immortals from the truck.

The Baskin Robbins truck driver was insane, not stupid. As soon as he saw the three idiots standing in the roadway, he slammed on the brakes and screeched to a stop. The convertible and van that had been following him since California stopped as well.

Connor approached the door of the truck and reached it the same time as Sub-Zero did. They looked at each other, the ninja doing a double-take and wondering, _Why in the world is Rayden in mortal form?_ He let it slide, however, as the driver opened his door and demanded, "What's the matter with you whackos? You're not supposed to stand— aaarrrrgh!"

Sub-Zero, entirely disinterested in what the American had to say, dragged him out of the seat and froze the driver to the cement. He added enough layers to last four hours, plenty of time to raid the truck and get what they had been vying for. Connor, Adam, and Duncan wisely said nothing about the unique method of subduing the driver.

The back of the truck dipped, lifting the front five inches from the ground. Jax, Teal'c, Buffy, and Prue were lifting the door open as the rest, minus Jack and Stryker, waited impatiently. The other two were both groaning over the states of their whitened hair between their debate of whose hockey team was better: New York's or Calgary's.

"We have ice cream!" Nightwolf declared with a smile as the door finally parted.

Hannibal watched as the ice cream was doled out, saying around his cigar, "I love it when a plan comes together."


	13. Dinner Date, Ice Cream Ills, and Is Ther

Alright, so I was initially not going to post this chapter since I don't feel this chapter is all that great, but it's the only complete one thus far. The next chapter I was originally going to post is approximately half-way done. And I'm still open to suggestions for future chapters.

I apologize if Stryker's speech is incomprehensible; sometimes I go a little overboard with the whole congested/accent speech.

* * *

**_Dinner Date, Ice Cream Ills, and Is There a Doctor in the House?_**

Nightwolf came into the infirmary, adjusting a tie and taking care not to muss his tuxedo. He smiled at the inmate, greeting him pleasantly. "Hello, Stryker. How's the congestion?"

"Shad ap," Stryker retorted miserably. Then he sneezed twice, coughed, and sneezed twice more.

"Well, you shouldn't have eaten that gallon tub of ice cream and taken a dip in the pool after Sub-Zero froze it," Nightwolf scolded lightly. "Fifty below zero is no temperature to swim in, especially after you ate all that ice cream."

"I dadn'd know dat da ith cweam would ged me sthick!" Stryker moaned. Then he caught sight of the special dress. "Why are you dwethed lide dat?"

"I'm going to dinner with Jinn. My wife," Nightwolf explained at Stryker's confusion.

"You can'd do dat!" Stryker protested, sneezing twice. "Whad about me? I'm sthick!"

"You'll be fine," Nightwolf told him. "Just take the medicine every four hours like I told you, get a lot of rest, and eat hot soup. I left a number on my desk where you can reach me in case of any complications."

"Bud," Stryker looked horrified. "Whad if someding happens? Whad if the odars ged sthick or hurt?"

"Everything will be fine, Stryker. But if something does come up, you have my number."

Far from looking reassured, Stryker slumped in the bed and whimpered, "Dis is justh asking for drouble, I know it."

------

"Hey, Jinn," Nightwolf smiled, greeting the woman waiting for him on the park bench. They exchanged a kiss and Nightwolf gave her a bouquet of yellow roses. "Everything okay?"

"Wonderful," she replied with a smile. "What could be more romantic than hot dogs and fries on a date?"

They laughed and Nightwolf sat next to her, taking a bite of his hot dog. Then he said, "Just to let you know, one of my friends got sick yesterday and he's a complete fusspot, so I might get a call or two."

"If he's sick, should you be here?" she frowned. "Shouldn't you be playing doctor?"

"Oh, he'll be fine. It's just a cold–"

An abrupt _bring_-ing noise caught him off guard, and he sighed. "Barely five minutes and already he's calling me." He took out his cell phone and asked, "Stryker?"

There was a pause, then Stryker answered, "Eh, Nidewolf? We god a pwoblem."

"Of course, Stryker, or you wouldn't be calling me. Have you taken your medicine?"

Another pause. "Eh, nod yed, bud dat's nod da pwoblem."

"Then what is it? I'm trying to have a quality time with my wife, remember?"

The pause that followed his statement was longer than ever. "Thonya's stomach hurts. She ade too much ith cweam."

Nightwolf thought about it. "Well, there's some Pepto Bismol in the cupboard. That should take care of whatever it is."

"Okay. Sthorry 'bout dis."

"Yeah, it's alright, Stryker. Remember your medicine."

"Uh huh."

Nightwolf hung up, smiling apologetically at Jinn. "Sorry, apparently one of my other friends got sick too."  
"I really think you should go home, Nightwolf," Jinn urged. "If your friends are sick, then they need you."

"And you're my wife," Nightwolf replied, kissing her. "I need _you_."

Jinn sighed. "Alright, they are your friends, I'll let you choose. But if things really get serious over there–"

"I'll go straight back and settle everything," Nightwolf finished. "But they're grown adults, they can handle it."

------

The phone rang an hour later while Nightwolf and Jinn found constellations in Central Park. Fumbling a bit, Nightwolf got the cell phone out and answered, "What?"

"Thonya's stomach sthill hurts and now Jax burned himselth."

"Burned himself? How?"

Stryker sneezed twice before replying. "Twying to cook. Sthomeding happened and he burned himselth on da stove." There was yelling in the background, and Stryker added hurriedly, "And Thonya saysth dat if you don'd give her sthomeding to make her stomach bedder, she's gonna sthkin Kiba."

"The Pepto Bismol should have been enough, and as for Jax put some burn salve on it. It's in the uppermost cupboard on the left side of my office."

"Well, da Pepto Bismol wasthn't enough and we alweady twied da healing salve. Id didn't woik."

"Did you use the salve in the white bottle?"

The pregnant pause from the other end made Nightwolf's heart plummet. "Um, whad whide boddle?"

Nightwolf groaned. "What bottle did you use?"

"Da bwue one." A cough and two sneezes came after.

_Blue, blue, blue_. . . . "You used the baby salve!"

Another pause. "Baby salve? I dought id was Ithy Hot."

He had to do damage control. Quickly. "The baby salve shouldn't negatively affect Jax. Just wash off the salve with cold water and apply the salve from the _white_ bottle. Got that?"

"Wasth and whide boddle. God id. Bud whad 'bout Thonya?"

"Give her water and try some more Pepto. There's some morphine injectors if her stomach pains get too much."

"Okay. Tell Jinn we're sthorry." Sneezes and a cough finished the sentence.

"Right." Nightwolf hung up and sighed. "Stryker says they're sorry for the interruptions."

"You know, they wouldn't have to interrupt if you were just there," Jinn scolded.

"But tonight is _our_ night. Besides, they're minor things. Nothing to worry about yet."

"_Yet_," Jinn repeated morbidly.

------

Their date was disrupted a half hour later by another phone call. Exasperated, Nightwolf picked up the phone and ignored the knowing look in his wife's eyes. "What is it _now_?"

"Wayden lid himselth on fwire."

Nightwolf felt the bottom of his stomach drop. Had things gotten so bad that now a _god_'s health was in danger? "Is he okay?"

"He's a god, Nidewolf, 'coise he's okay. Bud Kidana god in da middle of evewyding and she god dwenched in cold water." Stryker coughed and sneezed twice.

"So she's sick?"

"Uh huh."

"Then give her some of your medicine, Stryker."

"We twied. She thwew it up."

Nightwolf groaned and kneaded his forehead. "Her blood is different from ours; the medicine probably affects her differently. I got some medicine that shouldn't affect her so terribly; it's next to the burn salve you used on Jax. It should be purple."

"Pwuple. God id." Stryker hesitated, then went on. "Eh, Nidewolf? Thonya's been actding weiwd since I gave her the morphine."

Nightwolf felt his own stomach ping with hurt. "How much did you give her?"

"Um. . . . Two of the dath wines."

"Two millimeters, that should be enough for her."

"Bud. . . She's actding stwange."

"Strange how?"

"She's happy all da dime. She fwenched me a few minutes ago."

_Yes, that **is **odd behavior_. "Just keep her in one place and don't let her get too excited. She's just high on morphine right now."

"Oh. Okay."

"How is Jax?"

"Um. . . . I was gonna ged to dat."

_That does not sound good_. "What is it?" Nightwolf insisted.

"His burn god pwuple and owange after we pud da salve on."

"It's probably skin irritation. Don't worry about it."

Stryker sneezed twice. "I wemember you told me sthomeding sthimilar earlier. And I'm delling you now, evewyding is _nod_ fine, and I'm weally worwied."

"If thing's get really bad over there, I'll come home."

The other side of the line was quiet, and Nightwolf could easily imagine Stryker's pout. "Awight. Bud when dings _do_ ged woise, and I do mean _when_, I'm holding you to dat pwomise."

Stryker hung up. Nightwolf did the same, hanging his head with a sigh. "Of all the nights, they had to choose this one."

"You're important to them, Nightwolf," Jinn told him sharply. "You shouldn't be here if they're sick."

"You're important to me, Jinn. I'm not running out on you until I have to."

She sighed. "You keep telling me about all of these stubborn friends of yours. Now I'm starting to wonder whether _they_ are really the stubborn ones."

------

Stryker hesitated from picking up the phone, wondering whether Nightwolf would even listen or just not answer out of aggravation. Finally he decided, as the only one who could actually pick up a phone, he had to do it. For their sakes.

He dialed the now-familiar number and listened to it ring once, twice, three times, sneezing two times while it rang a fourth. He didn't know what was happening on the other end, but by Nightwolf's whimpered "Yes?" Stryker could easily come to the conclusion that the Indian only answered out of duress rather than duty.

"Wu and Thub-Thero god in a bide ober ith cweam and now they have broken wimbs."

The intermission on the other end was one Stryker expected. The creak of bedsprings made him feel guilty. "_Why_ were the two most mature men on the team fighting over _ice cream_?"

"I don'd know. Thub-Thero broke Wu's jaw and Wu knocked Thub-Thero unconscious, stho I couldn'd find oud."

The information elicited a devastated sigh from Nightwolf. "Alright, I'll be there in an hour. Can you set up the operation table for me?"

Stryker winced and coughed. "Sure, bud dat's nod da onwy pwoblem."

"What else could possibly have gone wrong?"

"Jax's burn? Id started gwowing dings."

"Growing things?"

"Yep. Pink mosthy sthuff."

"Pink mossy stuff!"

"Yeah. And Thonya twied thedusthing me."

"What?" Nightwolf asked, Stryker's congestion making his sentence inaudible.

"She twied se-dus-thing me."

"_She tried to seduce you_!"

"Uh huh. And Kidana hasn't stopped thwowing up ith cweam."

"Has she _eaten_ ice cream?"

"No. Dat's whad's worwying me."

"For crying out loud. . . Can't I have one vacation without the entire base falling apart?"

"Appawantly nod."

"Well, I'll be there in an hour. Just. . . keep things from getting any worse, okay?"

Stryker bit his lip. "Okay." He heard the dial tone, and placed the phone in its cradle.

"Maybe I should have told him dat Wayden is sthick from eading all da ith cweam." Stryker thought about it, then shrugged. "Oh well. He pwobably couldn't have taken another shock." He coughed and sneezed twice.

------

Nightwolf groaned as he opened his eyes, wincing against the bright light. After a minute he squinted, trying to see where he was.

Stryker's face hovered over him, looking a little stuffy but no worse for wear. "You okay, Nightwolf?" he asked, congestion slightly at ease.

"What happened?" the Indian moaned.

"You finished operating on Wu and Thub-Zero, Jax, Kitana, and prescribing Thonya someding to help her drug high, but then you collapsed. I think it had someding to do with all the anxiety you went through."

"Are they alright?" Nightwolf sat up, wincing at the ache that split his head in two.

"They're sweeping off the drugs. You've only been out for two hours."

"Everyone else?"

"Jax and Kitana are fine. Thonya. . ." Stryker hesitated. "She's still kinda out of it."

"How much out of it?"

"Still trying to get into my pants, but too lazy to do anyding about it."

Nightwolf massaged his neck. "She'll be fine, hopefully." Then he remembered, "Isn't Rayden sick?"

"He went up to the Heavens to get treatment. Said something about the indignity of getting mortal help being too much."

"I would be offended, but it's one less person for me to worry about." Nightwolf started to rise but Stryker firmly pushed him back on the bed.

"You are sthick, Nightwolf, so you need to stay in bed."

"But everyone else–"

"Will be fine. Everyone you operated on are still asweep and. . . I can avoid Thonya. As for myself, my cold's getting better thanks to your medicine so I should get fully well soon." He sneezed twice. "The only thing I wish is dat dis damn sneeze would go away."

Glaring, Nightwolf shook his head. "I'm the doctor, Stryker, I have to make sure everyone's alright."

"They do say doctors make the worst patients," Stryker sighed dramatically to himself. "Nightwolf, either stay in this bed and be useful from here, or I'll drug you. Either way, you're staying in this bed."

Nightwolf eyed Stryker, forming a plan in his mind. "Stryker, you amaze me. You're becoming more like a doctor every day. I would even dare say that you'll learn all the medical terms and receive your M.D. very soon."

Stryker's look of condescension quickly turned into one of horror. "No, no, I'm just being a good friend–"

"But you're so talented. Of course, to be a doctor, you also have to pass a syringe test."

Stryker paled further. "What's a syringe test?"

"Where you inject yourself with harmless fluids."

"I-inject y-yourself. . ." Stryker swayed, then fainted.

"Doctors _do_ make the worst patients," Nightwolf grinned, "only because we know how to get out of treatment. Now, to get me some ice cream."


	14. Family Reunion, Ice Cream Blasphemy, and

I sound like such a nag saying this, but I just want to make sure people know I haven't closed the suggestion box. It will not heretofore be closed until I clearly write, "Suggestion Box Closed." There, now I can stop reminding people every chapter. Yay.

****

**_

* * *

Family Reunion, Ice Cream Blasphemy, and Marriages Part Deux_**

Something, Stryker deduced one obscenely early morning after waking up to Kiva chewing his newest pair of boots to pieces, was up.

For the past twenty minutes Sonya had entered and left the kitchen in a nervous fit, not bothering to stop and get anything to eat or drink. Stryker was inclined to say that she was trying to gather the courage to speak to him, but he couldn't for the life of him think of a reason _why_ she would.

Bored of watching Sonya stepping in and out of the doors, Stryker hailed her. Resignedly, she came to the table.

"What of mine did you break?" Stryker inquired.

She blinked. "Nothing."

"Who'd you lie to and say I was gay?"

"No one," Sonya growled, "though if you keep interrogating me like this I just might to spite you."

"Then what's going on?" Stryker demanded. "You're acting like Liu would if he was gathering the balls to ask Kitana out on a date."

Sonya closed her eyes, then said in a rush, "I need to ask a favor of you."

Stryker stared. When his eyes had nearly dried he blinked, and stared some more. "_What_?"

"You see," Sonya started, sitting down on a chair, "my family is having a reunion. And while I would be happy to sit around, drink alcohol all night, and pretend that I'm not related to most of my family members, there's a little . . . catch."

"And . . . that is?" Stryker goaded.

When Sonya closed her eyes, Stryker knew it was a dire situation. When she bit her lip, he knew she was desperate. When she said, "My mother thinks I'm married, and that I'm married to you," Stryker couldn't help himself.

He laughed heartily, enough so that tears streamed from his eyes.

He didn't see the glare, but when she struck him on the back of his head he could imagine it well. "This isn't a laughing matter!"

"Oh, yes it is!" Stryker chuckled and snorted. "_You_ told your mother that _we're_ married? Why not Jax, or Nightwolf?"

She had hoped he wouldn't ask that question. "My parents already know Jax; they would've been suspicious if I said he and I were married. Nightwolf's a great guy and all, but he's married. I couldn't put him in that situation. Kitana would kill me if I even pretended Liu was my husband. And I don't think Sub-Zero would ever play along with the prospect of him and I being married. You were the only one left."

_Not to mention he already tied the knot with someone else,_ Stryker recalled. "Well, it sounds like you're in one hell of a pickle. Have fun sorting it all out."

Stryker stood up to leave, but was dragged back down by Sonya as she hissed, "You're _leaving_ me with this?"

"Hey, it's not _my_ issue," Stryker shrugged. "Just tell them I couldn't come."

"That won't satisfy them! They need to see you in person, so they'll leave me alone about getting married!"

Stryker sighed. "Sonya, as blessed—and I do use that word sparingly—as I am to have you as a comrade, I have no interest in boring myself senseless at a family reunion which isn't even _my_ family—"

"Not even for _these_?" Sonya said liltingly, holding up two rectangular scraps of paper.

Lifting a brow, Stryker peered at her blackmail. His skeptical look quickly evaporated into disbelief and want. "Y-y- That—y-you—"

"Have tickets to the hockey playoffs, which feature a certain New York hockey team that you so desperately love," Sonya nodded, waving the ticket in his face. "And, would you look at _that_? V.I.P. seats."

A strangled sound rasped from Stryker, and he sat heavily. "Where—how—what—!"

"I have connections," Sonya replied smoothly to his stuttering. "Now," she added, wafting the tickets left and right and watching with satisfaction as his eyes followed the delicate slips of paper, "you can either go along with me, pretend to be my husband and _not let my mother or father know I'm lying_, and have the tickets, or," Sonya pulled the tickets back, ignoring his whimper and trembling, outstretched hand, "I can use these as bookmarks. I _have_ been needing a new one—"

"_No!_" Stryker protested, waving his arms wildly. "No no no! I'll do it, I'll do it! Just, just gimme the—"

"Here," Sonya handed it to him, watching with incredulity as he practically meshed the tickets into his shirt. "Sheesh. Maybe I should've saved the tickets for something else."

"No! They're mine! You can't have them back!" Stryker snarled, clutching the tickets even tighter.

"Just as long as you remember—"

"Yeah, yeah," Stryker dismissed, looking at his tickets with all the adoration one would reserve for their first newborn child. "Play the husband, be all supportive of you, yadda yadda. As long as I have these, I couldn't care less."

------

Stryker was beginning to believe he had been gypped by Sonya. He wasn't entirely sure _why_ he felt gypped, though.

It may have had something to do with the royal blue tie currently strangling his neck.

It may also have been due in part to Sonya's older relatives, whom were quite fond of smiling knowingly at him and reminiscing about a "little man with a big smile" that Sonya had once dated and (evidently) quite violently dumped.

"Sonya, I would have appreciated you letting me know that your relatives enjoyed comparing current suckers to your past exes," Stryker muttered to her through a forced smile. He twisted the tie loose for the seventh time in the past hour.

"And you wouldn't have come, either," Sonya replied through her own teeth, tightening his tie once again. "Take a breather, Stryker. When everyone gets a look at you, they'll move on to other family members. Just make sure to avoid any large men bearing a Major's insignia."

"'Large men bearing a Major's insignia?'" Stryker repeated with a conspiratorial smirk. "Is he your mysterious lover of whom I should be jealous?"

Sonya glared at him in disgust. "He's my _father_ you pervert. And if you like staying out of the hospital, you'll stay out of his way."

Stryker blanched. "Sorry. Er, when you say 'stay out of the hospital' you mean—"

"Stay out of his way or enjoy a protracted time in Johns Hopkins Hospital."

"Gotcha—ooh, is that the buffet table? With ice cream buckets?"

"Looks like," Sonya nodded distractedly; she kept more of an eye out for her father than for the dessert. "Of course, I don't think there are any Baskin Robbins around here—"

"There's five in this area; the closest is a little more than a mile away," Stryker said, steering Sonya rather forcibly toward the buffet table.

"How the hell do you know that?" the Lieutenant asked, one brow arched.

"I've been here before for a family reunion, since my relatives here didn't want to leave the Baltimore area. Had to figure out where the Baskin Robbins were, since they didn't have the courtesy to bring any ice cream. I'm still irritated about that, four years later."

"You have family in Baltimore?"

"An eccentric great-grandfather moved out here because he thought the cows were plotting to take over the farm," Stryker explained with strange simplicity.

Sonya wondered if she should ask further about the "eccentric great-grandfather," but decided she truly didn't have any desire to know how much more dysfunctional Stryker's family was.

This was especially the case when she spotted an all-too-familiar hat on top of an even-more-familiar head. "Oh, crap," she moaned, digging her heels into the floor and tugging Stryker back from the table, "Stryker, turn around quickly, before he—"

"Sonya!" a masculine voice boomed over the crowd, making Sonya flinch.

A foreboding gloom overcame Stryker, making him forget about the potential for ice cream. He, along with the woman, turned slowly. A large man dressed in military uniform came up to them, grinning widely. He bore, Stryker saw with even greater dread, two very shiny stars on his epaulettes.

"Dad," Sonya's mouth instantly plastered into a smile. "How great to see you. I gotta go find Mother now, so I'll talk to you later—"

"Is this the guy?" Sonya's father (her rather tall and looming father, Stryker noted with a gulp) clapped a hand on Stryker's shoulder. His knees wobbled, and had he the courage to do so, Stryker would have buckled and cried his tears of fear and woe.

"Uh, yeah, Dad," Sonya's smile faded. She looked very nearly scared. "But, Dad, Jax already gave him the lecture so—"

"Ah, but the lecture from a close friend isn't the same as from your father," the man said.

_Lecture? Father's lecture? Ohhhh, no. Please, God, I'll give up hockey if you spare me. I'll give my tickets to Kiva for him to chew and slobber over to his content if you just spare me—_

"Come on over here, boy, and we'll have a nice long chat about my daughter," the father said, leading Stryker away. Stryker chanced a glance back, and was none-too-reassured by Sonya's horrified face.

"Now," Sonya's father dropped Stryker in a chair, sitting in one himself. "What's your name, boy?"

"Stryker," he tried not to gulp, "Captain Stryker."

"Captain! So you're a military man?" If Stryker didn't know better, he would have said he had just earned brownie points.

"Police, actually–sir. Captain of the New York riot brigade." _God hates me. God doesn't want me happy. God thinks it's funny to see me lose an arm. Or leg. Or maybe he just wants to see me lose my entire torso._

"That's good," the father nodded. "So, Captain, do you know what this insignia means?"

Stryker eyed the two stars presented to him. "Major General, sir."

"That's right. Do you know what that means?"

_Er. . ._ "You're very powerful, sir?"

"Hey, a smart one this time! Yes, powerful. Influential, one would even say. So," the Major leaned forward, and Stryker valiantly fought the urge to lean back, "if you ever, in any way, hurt my daughter, it will be most difficult to keep your job in the riot brigade. Do you understand?"

Stryker couldn't help but think the lecture would have been far more intimidating with arm implants. Or ice powers. Or more than millenniums of godhood and life experience under his belt. "Yes, sir. Perfectly, sir."

"Good." The Major stood and nearly left when he paused. He said, "Are you a sports fan, Captain?"

"Yes, sir," Stryker blinked. "New York Rangers."

Sonya's father leaned down. "They can lose their jobs, too."

The Major left, leaving Stryker shocked, terrified, and threatened.

A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his horror. Sonya bent over him and asked, "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you too badly, did he?"

Stryker choked back a sniffle. "He–he threatened the Rangers!"

Sonya stared. "He did what?"

"Threatened the Rangers' jobs!"

Any and all sympathy Sonya had for Stryker vanished into nonexistence once more. "So you're fine, in other words. Damn, I was worried."

Stryker's sniffling stopped abruptly. "Huh? Worried? _You_ worried about _me_?"

Sonya shrugged. "Last time I had a boyfriend, Dad scared him so bad he walked into freeway traffic. Took a month of psychological therapy at Johns Hopkins to convince him German Shepherds as a species could not decide one day to rip him to shreds."

"Oh." Stryker thought. "But, your dad doesn't actually have any leeway in deciding the Rangers' roster, right?"

Sonya hit Stryker over his head.

------

Two hours later, the reunion seemed to have lost no momentum and more people than Stryker could have predicted to be related in some way to Sonya had assailed the two in order to congratulate them on their supposed marriage. Everything got worse as an unsuspecting young man asked Sonya if any children were due.

The last Stryker checked, the man was still barred in a bathroom stall with his head down the toilet.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Stryker slumped over the ledge on the roof, looking down at the passing traffic below him. At this rate, his reputation would be ruined and even the women in New York would hear about the rumor of his marriage, consequently ruining any chance of him actually having an honest relationship.

"Hey," Sonya came up beside him, holding two milkshakes. "This is yours. Damn Mother wouldn't let me just serve myself; apparently I have to take care of my 'husband' and make sure he's well fed."

"Thank you," Stryker said cautiously, edging slightly away from Sonya. She was obviously still irate about the children comment. With twin sighs, they took a swig of their milkshakes.

The spit-take that ensued thereafter would have earned them a place in the Guinness Book of World Records had anyone witnessed it, and several passersby below were showered with spittle and backwashed milkshake.

"Disgusting!"

"Gross!"

"What the hell is this? This isn't a milkshake!"

Stryker glared at the cup, blinking at the label. The logo painted glaringly on the cup was not, as it should have been, the Baskin Robbins logo, but the logo of Bruster's Ice Cream.

"_No_!"

"Blasphemy!"

"How could they? Are they trying to poison us?"

"It's a plot against us! It's Shao Kahn trying to drive us insane and kill us!"

Heedless of the unfortunate souls below them, the two chucked their cups over the side. Exploding bombs of milkshake made the passersby shriek and huddle close to the building for protection.

"This is the last time I ever let you bribe me into helping you with family," Stryker hissed at Sonya, spitting out the remnants of milkshake. "That was just . . . disgusting!"

"It's not like _I_ knew they were serving second-rate ice cream," Sonya protested, leading Stryker down the staircase to the ballroom. "I'm not the one who coordinated this whole damn thing."

They merged into the crowd, all of whom seemed to realize Sonya's bad temper and steered clear of her. Were Stryker given a choice, he would have joined them in avoiding Sonya. As it was, he trotted along with (_he did not follow_) Sonya to the bar, where she ordered a straight shot of tequila.

"Care to join me?" she asked as the bartender gave her the shot.

"Er, no," Stryker replied as he watched her shoot the alcohol with a wince. "The way this night is going, one of us has to stay sober—"

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen!" the host on the stage clapped his hands together with a huge grin on his face. "It's time for . . . the traditional Epee Polka Dance!"

As the crowd cheered and gathered for the dance to begin, Stryker paled. He turned back to the bar and shouted for a bottle of tequila.

"God, I forgot about this," Sonya groaned, crouching down closer to the bar top. "This is so humiliating."

"I am _not_ polka-dancing with you," Stryker growled under his breath as the tequila bottle was delivered. "I will tell the whole world that we're not married before I ever polka dance at all."

Sonya glared at him, clanking her shot-glass against the bottle's neck. "Pour me a shot. We can at least look on the bright side: it can't get any worse than this."

"Kurtis?" someone said behind them, disbelief in their tone. Both stiffening, Stryker and Sonya turned. A man and woman were staring at them, arms around each other in the manner of husband and wife.

"Kelley?" Stryker said just as Sonya gasped, "Damien?" They turned to each other, demanding, "You know them?"

"Er, well, you know that eccentric great-grandfather I mentioned?" Stryker reminded her, "Kelley's from that family. Ninth cousin, right?"

"Right," Kelley nodded. "I don't know if you were there at the wedding, Kurt, but this is Sonya's cousin, Damien Blade, my most wonderful hubby," they shared a saccharine kiss, missing Sonya and Stryker's twin looks of horror.

"T-that means," Sonya stuttered.

"We're . . . we're . . ." Stryker opened and shut his jaw several times, unable to come to terms with the revelation.

"We're _related_."

------

The Defenders and Rayden had an unacknowledged routine regarding breakfast within the base. The routine consisted mainly of either Sonya or Stryker beginning to snipe at the other over some meaningless issue and the remaining person would react either physically or verbally, respective to a certain person (Stryker generally chose to retaliate with a droll remark). Thereafter, the others would force them to sit and behave civilly until breakfast was over, which usually failed since more than a piece of waffle or bar of butter would fly across the table at some point before the finish.

This was an aggravating routine, but it was one to which the others had become very accustomed.

Thus the reason they were very perturbed when Stryker and Sonya both came to the breakfast table somberly and ate their meal without the most minor of disputes. They sat on opposite sides of the table, as far as they could get from one another. Even stranger was how they traded the butter platter between them with nary a malicious remark.

"Are you two okay?" Liu broke the ice of the quiet breakfast nervously. "You're both acting odd."

They made noises of assent, not even looking up from their waffles.

Trading significant looks, the others chose to follow their example and leave the matter at rest. At the end of the meal, Rayden got up to the freezer to take out the other part of their breakfast routine: bowls of ice cream.

"Hope you guys don't mind," Rayden said as he brought the cartons to the table, "but Baskin Robbins was closed so I went to a different store for a substitute. It's supposed to be very good."

Shrieks made everyone jump, but before they could ascertain the reason for the response Sonya and Stryker had fled the kitchen, their first joint action of the day.

"What the hell is up with those two?" Jax said aloud with a shake of his head.

"Don't know," Rayden blinked, looking down at the carton of Bruster's Ice Cream. "Montagu swore Bruster's was great stuff—dammit. If that god put a bet on whether or not I'd actually eat terrible ice cream, I'll get a bet going as to how long he'll live and clean house with his short, scrawny ass."


End file.
